


I Cannot Heave My Heart Into My Mouth

by Blue_Sparkle



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Blackmail, Break Up, Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Declarations Of Love, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Time, Getting Together, Hurt/Comfort, Lies, M/M, Other, Threats of Violence, post armageddon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-25
Updated: 2020-07-30
Packaged: 2021-03-04 03:55:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 28,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24917200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blue_Sparkle/pseuds/Blue_Sparkle
Summary: Armageddon is averted, the Earth is saved, and an angel and a demon are finally free to love.That is, unless Higher (and Lower) forces were to place an ultimatum: Break your beloved’s heart or watch him be tortured until the actual End of the World.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 100
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is completed and just needs editing, so I hope to stick to a weekly schedule and update Thursdays. 
> 
> Many thanks to summerofspock, who's been an amazing help and without who this fic wouldn't be done in the foreseeable future. 
> 
> First chapter includes a loving first time sex scene post Ritz, the actual main plot starts in chapter 2 
> 
> Enjoy <3

The presence of a nightingale in Berkeley Square went entirely unnoticed by the two celestial beings making their way to Soho, chatting animatedly. After a long and very pleasant dinner at the Ritz, just enough champagne to give them a pleasant buzz, and a deep feeling of relaxation over finally being _free_ neither of them wanted to part. It had become somewhat of a habit for Crowley and Aziraphale to meet up for a meal in secret, only to then return to the bookshop to continue the evening there, so this was what they decided on tonight as well. Not that they even needed to be careful anymore.

Crowley had fallen silent a while ago, his lips curled in a soft smile as Aziraphale went on and on about some new technique humans had come up with to preserve ancient crumbling paper. He didn’t need to contribute at all, happy enough to just listen, and Aziraphale preened under the attention, glad that they could just do this now. 

They reached the bookshop then, Aziraphale taking the one step to his door just as Crowley did, but didn’t reach for the door handle yet. It placed them quite a bit closer together than either of them was used to, and Aziraphale had to swallow the hitch in his breath, unwilling to show all of his emotions freely. Not out in the street at least, there was such a thing as public decency. 

He looked up at Crowley, head angled slightly down and feeling nearly shy about this. The sun hadn’t set yet, just barely brushing the rooftops around them, though the first street lamps had started to flicker on. It highlighted Crowley’s hair in gold, painting the most fetching shadows and highlights across his cheekbones. He looked good like this, and Aziraphale felt dizzy with the knowledge that he could _have_ this now. For the first time he permitted his defences to go down, soaking up the emotions rolling off of Crowley freely. At the moment it was a steady affection, just a tiny bit too warm for comfort, but in a good way. Like the tingle of heat when you sunk into a steaming bath while your entire body felt frozen. 

“So, this is me,” Aziraphale said with a slight laugh. Crowley’s smile widened a fraction, the affection nudging against Aziraphale’s skin. 

He had never been able to block out Crowley’s love fully, wasn’t built to ignore something so intense. Finally being able to appreciate the more tender hues of it was a delight, and worth all that he had to do to get to this point. 

“It’s all just as you left it, angel” Crowley promised. “With some additions here and there maybe.”

The way he said the word angel was laced with casual love the likes of which Aziraphale usually only felt with older human couples, or those who had truly settled into the comfort of their affection. He’d always heard it, of course, but to have it confirmed by his senses was delightful. 

“It’ll be fun to look for them,” Aziraphale laughed. “My own personal treasure hunt to find what young Adam left for me.”

Crowley chuckled quietly and shifted his weight. He didn’t seem nervous, precisely, too at ease for that. He nodded his head to the street. 

“Probably should get going. Haven’t really set to fixing my own flat yet. Not sure if Adam put away any damage there. Got to check on my plants, too.”

“Of course, my dear.”

Neither moved, both still staring at each other. Crowley didn’t want to leave, and Aziraphale didn’t want him to either. But there was no real reason for him to stay at the moment. Both of them really should get to checking on their belongings, maybe sleep, relax after the ordeals of the past few days. 

Aziraphale swallowed thickly as he felt a sudden urgent need to tell Crowley what he felt. He knew the demon couldn’t feel it the way he could, had only ever had Aziraphale’s actions to know it by. Despite being a warrior of Heaven Aziraphale had never felt particularly brave. The constant worry nagging at his soul since the moment he’d given away his sword – his first real transgression – hadn’t permitted him to feel like anything but a dreadful coward. 

For this though, he could be brave. For millennia Crowley had been the one to push, to nudge, move their relationship along. Aziraphale had always resisted, never truly doing anything besides maybe inviting the demons to meals and following along. With a sudden clarity he realized that Crowley would not put him over that final edge, would not drag Aziraphale into something they both desperately wanted, wouldn’t do this one final thing unless the angel gave explicit permission. 

They had saved the world, had secured a life of free will and being on their own side. Why waste another moment of this?

“Crowley,” Aziraphale said, softly. His hands shook, not from nerves, but from an excitement that threatened to swallow him whole and make it difficult to speak. Crowley froze the second Aziraphale spoke, turned his attention on him fully. He was so beautiful, and all Aziraphale had to do was say the words and he’d be _his_ forever. 

“Crowley, I must let you know. You need to- Ah,” he laughed shakily. They had forever, they were _free_. He just had to say the words. 

“Crowley, I need to tell you. I love you dearly, more than anyone in the world. More and differently than any angel should love anything.”

Crowley was still frozen, lips parted in surprise. Aziraphale let out a sigh and took Crowley’s lapels in hand, stepping closer into Crowley’s space. 

“I love you, my darling.”

Crowley choked on something, his hands shooting up to cup Aziraphale’s face in them, stopping just shy of actually touching. 

“What are you saying, angel. Are you-? Is this real?”

Aziraphale leaned his head to the side, nuzzling against Crowley’s palm without taking his eyes off his beloved. 

“I love you. And I would very much like to spend eternity with you, on our own side. If this is what you want?”

Crowley let out a breath. 

“If I _want_? Angel, of course I want- I-”

He choked, overwhelmed with emotions, and a heartbeat later Aziraphale was hit with the wave of love that made him gasp. It was the full intensity of the demon’s love, fully felt, burning against his skin, making his corporation’s heart clench and speed up in lack of any other way to respond. Aziraphale knew Crowley loved him, just as deeply and purely as he did him. 

Unable to wait a moment longer Aziraphale surged forward, lips connecting in a kiss. It was soft, it was everything he’d ever wanted. His nose bumped against Crowley’s sunglasses and Crowley tilted his head instinctively to deepen the kiss, to make the angle better. It was both chaste and intense, it was everything Aziraphale hadn’t even permitted himself to dream of. Crowley’s hands were in his hair, cradling his head just so, guiding Aziraphale impossibly gently as they kissed. It felt like music was swelling around them, and Aziraphale couldn’t tell if his ears were playing tricks or whether it was the impossible rush of love around them. 

When they broke apart Crowley was breathing hard and Aziraphale felt tears of joy in his eyes. 

“Angel,” Crowley whispered, licking his lips, his fingertips nudging against the nape of Aziraphale’s neck. Aziraphale shivered under the intimate touch, giggling quietly under the demon’s intense stare. 

“I love you, my darling,” Aziraphale repeated. 

Then he remembered that they were still very much in public. His home wasn’t in some quaint little street, the kiss on his doorstep wasn’t quite as intimate as it was in the movies. Every human on the street right now, every single one of his neighbours might as well be watching. 

His cheeks heating up Aziraphale let go of Crowley reluctantly to try and fumble with the door. 

“Oh dear, perhaps we should, ah, take this inside? I didn’t quite imagine our first to be quite so public you see.”

Crowley’s hands were on his waist, warm and sending spikes of pleasure through Aziraphale. He had never been touched so intimately, this much. This wasn’t a casual thing, this was with purpose. 

The door swung open and Aziraphale near stumbled forward, Crowley right at his heels. The moment the door swung closed with a ring of the bell and the outside noises growing muffled Aziraphale was whirled around and crowded against a pillar, gently, Crowley’s hands back to holding his head as if to cushion the soft impact. 

“Angel,” he whispered, pressing their bodies together, foreheads touching. He reached up to tear his sunglasses off, throwing them over his shoulder carelessly. “I-” 

Aziraphale gazed up into Crowley’s eyes, smiling. He sunk his hands into the demon’s soft hair, finally, after waiting so long for a chance to do so. He could feel Crowley shiver under his hands, trying to work past the intensity of the situation to get the words out without a stutter. Aziraphale could feel them with his whole being, and Crowley’s lips were right there.

This time he pulled Crowley towards himself, kissing him once more. Crowley whimpered against him, lips slightly parted and in a moment of boldness Aziraphale dared to part his own and deepen the kiss. As if a switch was flipped Crowley pushed against him, pressing him against the pillar much harder than before, taking control of the moment. 

Aziraphale let out a startled moan, trying to press himself even closer to his demon, his hands pressing against Crowley’s back, feeling the shift of his muscles even through the jacket. When they broke apart they were both breathing hard, Crowley’s face slightly flushed. 

“You have no idea how long I wanted to do that,” Crowley whispered against Aziraphale’s lips. “You feel amazing, angel.”

“Oh my darling,” Aziraphale said, feeling tears in his eyes threatening to spill. How silly he was, getting so overwhelmed so quickly. “Please forgive me for making you wait for so long.”

“No, no,” Crowley soothed, cupping Aziraphale’s face in his hands again. “No, angel, don’t say that. We couldn’t have done this before. There was no way, please don’t cry.”

“These are tears of joy,” Aziraphale replied with a smile, placing one of his hands over Crowley’s, keeping it there. “It’s just so very strange to think that we can do whatever we want now.”

Crowley’s thumb rubbed over Aziraphale’s cheek, soft and the most skin contact Aziraphale ever had all in one go. 

“And what do you want, angel? We have forever to do anything we couldn’t before.”

Aziraphale paused for a moment, his heart thundering against his ribs. They were still pressed together, but fully clothed and Crowley’s hands being the only point of skin-to-skin contact. This wasn’t a thought he’d allowed himself to entertain before, but he desperately wanted anything Crowley could give him. Wetting his lips with his tongue nervously, feeling his cheeks burn Aziraphale allowed himself to be bold once more. 

“If you’re amenable, I would very much like for you to take me to bed and make love to me.”

Desire wasn’t something angels could really feel on their own, not unless it was tightly laced with love. Aziraphale knew that Crowley wanted him, had occasionally felt a flicker of lust mingled into the love that made it past his defences, knew that Crowley’s eyes lingered at him with heat when his own defences were down. The wave he felt now was intense enough to make his knees feel weak. 

Crowley’s eyes were on him, the gold completely swallowing up any white, entirely snake now, the same they had been that first day on the wall of Eden. 

“That,” he hissed softly. “Can be arranged.”

*

Aziraphale had never truly used his bed for anything other than reading on long winter nights. It was comfortable and inviting, the blankets soft and cream coloured, feeling exactly like anything worn soft by age. 

Now it was being used for one of the intended purposes for the first time and Aziraphale was quite glad for its existence. He barely had the presence of mind to deal with miracles at the moment, too caught up in getting his hands on as much of Crowley’s skin as he possibly could. He felt close to fainting when Crowley discarded his jacket and shirt, getting rid of his pants with a snap of his fingers. The desperate need to touch and take in all of his demon’s appearance was too much, he couldn’t think of anything except touching all he could. 

Crowley laughed as Aziraphale clung to him, kissing along his bare shoulder, a sight he’d never been blessed with before, moaning as fingers carded through his hair. 

“You’re so beautiful,” Aziraphale gasped out, hiding his face against Crowley’s neck. He couldn’t even bring himself to be embarrassed when Crowley needed to help him get rid of his own clothes, too distracted was he by touching as much as he could. His demon was all angles and sharp edges, skin pale in the dimming light from outside. 

“You say that as if you haven’t ever seen how lovely you are,” Crowley said, smiling. He took the time to fold Aziraphale’s clothes and place them on a chair carefully. It was delaying the time they could spend touching each other but the sight of Crowley’s considerate treatment of his clothes made his heart swell. 

When they were just in their underwear Crowley stepped closer again, one hand around Aziraphale’s neck the other cradling his head as he guided him back into a kiss. Aziraphale moaned into it, his own hands curling against Crowley’s chest, feeling the soft hair there with delight. This was all so real, so very much what he’d always wanted and never hoped for. 

“Is this alright?” Crowley asked when they broke apart. “Tell me if I’m going too fast?”

“You’re not, you’re not,” Aziraphale cried out. “Please, I want you.”

Crowley’s smile was vulnerable in its sincerity, and Aziraphale vowed quietly to never do anything to hurt his love ever again. He giggled when Crowley guided him up onto the bed, holding his hand as if he was helping him up into a carriage. He climbed up and after Aziraphale as the angel scooted back, letting both of them lie on the bed comfortably. 

They kissed again, this time with Crowley’s entire body pressing against him, legs tangled together and his arms bracketing Aziraphale’s head. With his cheeks heating Aziraphale felt something hard pressed against his hip, and he shuddered in delight. He’d only ever seen such actions at a distance, usually quite by accident or in situations in which he couldn’t avoid overhearing humans. He hoped his readings and hearing humans speak about this would be enough. 

“I’d like to see you, please,” he asked and Crowley blinked once before grinning and rolling off him just enough to slip out of his black boxers. 

If he wasn’t blushing before then Aziraphale certainly was now. He’d never seen _any_ kind of Effort up close before, not a human’s and certainly not a celestial being’s of any kind. He wasn’t sure if a cock could be described as beautiful under normal circumstances, but Crowley’s certainly was. It was bigger than what Aziraphale was used to from old art and statues (though he’d been led to believe that those were depicted as quite small anyway) hard and flushed red.

He tore his eyes away from Crowley’s cock in favour of grabbing at him and making him climb back on top of him. Kissing was good, it was familiar by now, though Aziraphale doubted he could ever get used to it. They were snogging now, he was sure, open-mouthed and with soft gasps breaking free from their lips. Aziraphale’s hands were curled around Crowley’s shoulders, holding on to him for dear life. He couldn’t imagine he’d ever let go of him anymore. Meanwhile Crowley’s hands were never still, running over Aziraphale’s ribs, stroking his chest and sides, kneading at the soft flesh of his body, letting out gasps of delight that made Aziraphale want to preen. He’d never had so much attention turned on his body, and it was marvellous indeed. He’d always enjoyed his corporation, the way it was strong and comfortable, giving out an aura of solace to anyone around him, the way it was well suited for his angelic strength and enjoying life’s pleasures. That it was something to give pleasure to others, to be admired, was novel and wonderful. 

“Is this ok for you?” Crowley asked between kisses, nipping at Aziraphale’s lips and squeezing his chest. “Tell me if you want me to stop or do something else.”

“It’s wonderful, please, go on,” Aziraphale replied each time, his hips arching up into Crowley’s body. He could feel wetness against his hip where Crowley’s cock was sliding against his skin, making the demon gasp. “Please, touch me.”

“I already am, angel,” Crowley said with a laugh before going back to kissing Aziraphale. 

The angel’s fingers tightened their grip on Crowley’s shoulders as he felt his warm hand stroke down, lower than before, sliding over his belly and towards the waistband of his underpants. 

Crowley’s fingertips were just about to dip under the garment when Aziraphale felt himself startled and quickly grabbed at Crowley’s wrist. The demon stilled the second he made contact, looking down at Aziraphale with concern. 

“Ok there, angel?”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, feeling a little embarrassed now. 

“Of course, darling it’s just ah- I’ve never. You see, I’ve never made an Effort of any kind before. Not once.”

Crowley looked down at him, eyebrows rising. 

“What, never? Not even out of curiosity.”

“I was always too worried that Heaven might find out and how was I to explain that? It didn’t quite seem worth the risk.”

They watched each other for a moment, then Aziraphale averted his eyes. 

“I didn’t want you to be surprised, that’s all. I’m not quite sure how to do this, I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Crowley sighed fondly and leaned down to kiss Aziraphale’s forehead. 

“Angel, anything you want to do will be alright. If you want to go on, just pick whatever you think will feel best, I’ll take care of you.”

“You always do,” Aziraphale whispered, then took a deep breath. “Alright, let me just focus for a moment.”

The shift was easy as breathing, one moment there was nothing and then the desire Aziraphale felt burning through his entire body shifted and focused between his legs. He let out a startled gasp at the sudden sensation, the heat and slick that hadn’t been there before. Crowley was watching him, eyes shining with something like reverence. When Aziraphale returned the gaze and nodded Crowley placed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth and sat back to slowly tug off Aziraphale’s underwear, going slow enough for Aziraphale to be able to stop him at any moment should he change his mind. 

But of course he wouldn’t, not now, not when his legs were trembling with anticipation and giddiness. He fought the urge to clasp his hands over his eyes, now that Crowley was out of reach, nervous to hear his lover’s opinion on his effort. Crowley kneeled before him, eyes bright, and he tossed the underwear off the bed with none of the care he’d shown for all of Aziraphale’s other garments. 

He stared for a few moments, and Aziraphale glanced down to confirm for himself that he’d done a good job with his newly acquired cunt. He couldn’t really see much of it at the angle he was lying at, but there was soft pale hair where nothing had been before, and he could feel it quite keenly. 

His legs twitched as Crowley ran his hands over his thighs softly, not pushing or anything, just touching in a soothing motion. 

“I want to taste you. Can I?”

Crowley had been nervous before, Aziraphale was sure, but now he looked confident, his eyes full of love, and Aziraphale knew that any nerves were pushed down when faced with the opportunity to take care of him. His demon had always been sweet like that. He felt his chest and shoulders burn, sure that he was red all over by now. He had no idea how that sensation might feel like, but the pang of want in his belly made him nod his head eagerly. 

“Oh please!”

Crowley sank down between his legs, hands running up his thighs, and Aziraphale let them fall open to give him better access. He couldn’t bring himself to commit to the nervousness he was feeling, not with Crowley’s affection rolling over him in reassurance. Crowley smiled up at him at that, running his hands up until his fingers were at the crease of Aziraphale’s leg. 

“I’ll make it good for you.”

“I have no doubts, my love.”

He didn’t dive straight in, as Aziraphale had expected, instead placing a soft kiss to Aziraphale’s inner thigh, moving up and pausing with each shiver that shook Aziraphale’s body, watching carefully for reactions. Aziraphale wanted him to get to it, desperately so, but he felt like he might discorporate on the spot from the intensity of it if Crowley just went straight in. He cried out when he felt the flick of a tongue against his outer lips, hands clutching at the sheets when Crowley spread him open. 

His tongue flicked out again, tasting the air, and Crowley moaned. 

“You smell delicious,” he growled and then his tongue was _on_ him, and Aziraphale had to muffle his scream with his hands, his hips thrusting up. Had Crowley not been holding him down he was sure he’d have thrown the demon off entirely. 

It was unlike anything Aziraphale had ever imagined it would be. It was slow, long licks with the flat of his tongue, the stroke of his fingers. Crowley’s face was pressed against Aziraphale, his eyes fluttered shut as he savoured the moment, repeating each motion that made Aziraphale cry out especially hard, as if memorizing it, before moving on to explore. 

Aziraphale was sure he would burst into flames when he felt Crowley’s tongue dip into him, inside him just like that, and very nearly shot up off the bed when Crowley moved up a little to suck at his clit. 

It was too much and not enough and Aziraphale fought to keep his legs parted, too sensitive where he’d never so much as felt air brush against him before now, his entire body wracked with shivers. His head was spinning and the heels of his hands were digging against his lips, trying to stifle his embarrassing cries. 

One of Crowley’s hands moved up until it touched his elbow, running up his arm until he could tug Aziraphale’s hand free. He laced their fingers together, pulling Aziraphale’s hand down to rest on the bed and not letting go. Crowley’s other hand was busy holding Aziraphale’s hips down, and he moaned softly, clearly enjoying himself. 

Feeling the demon’s fingers against his was grounding, letting Aziraphale relax finally and just drown in the sensations of Crowley seeing to him so thoroughly. He felt his hand being squeezed each time a moan escaped his lips, and Aziraphale felt as if Crowley was enjoying his little noises. Letting his other hand drop down to rest against his stomach Aziraphale decided to ignore the embarrassment of it all and just let the sounds tumble out of his mouth freely. If Crowley enjoyed it then clearly it wasn’t so bad to be loud in bed. 

Crowley pressed his face even closer, and Aziraphale felt something build, his stomach clenching, his own fingers digging against the back of Crowley’s hand. The sudden need to be held made him clamp his legs together. 

“Crowley, stop, darling-”

Immediately Crowley’s face rose up. He propped himself up on his elbows, his lips and chin glistering with slick. He wiped it off with the back of his hand, brow furrowed. 

“Did I do something wrong?”

“No, darling, not at all, you’re wonderful. But I very much need you to kiss me right this instant”

Crowley obeyed immediately, scooting back up and wrapping one arm around Aziraphale’s shoulders as he pulled him into a kiss. His lips tasted different now, of himself, Aziraphale realized. 

“Please, please hold me,” he gasped. “That was so… I never thought I could feel anything like this, but I need you to hold me.”

“Anything,” Crowley choked out, kissing along Aziraphale’s jaw and cheeks, nearly chaste given the circumstances. “Anything you want.”

Aziraphale swallowed against the lump in his throat and buried his hands in Crowley’s hair. 

“I think I’d like you in me,” he whispered, heart racing at his own suggestion. It felt so terribly forward, but he wanted, he needed…

Crowley’s breath hitched, and for a moment he looked a little nervous, eyes wide. 

“Yeah? Sure, I’d… want that, too.”

His grip around Aziraphale’s shoulders tightened and Crowley’s free hand slid down Aziraphale’s body again, stopping just shy of his cunt. 

“I’ll use my hand first angel, it makes it better if you…” he paused looking for a word. “If you warm up first. Feels much nicer than just sticking something in.”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, squirming in anticipation. 

“I trust you to make it wonderful, darling. You’ve got experience after all.”

Crowley made some sort of incomprehensible noise and hid his face against Aziraphale’s hair. 

“Just now what feels good to me, angel.”

Then his fingers dipped between Aziraphale’s outer lips again, thumb stroking over his clit as he searched for where he can really-

Aziraphale let out a startled sound; half moan half gasp when Crowley diped two fingers in lightly. It wasn’t that deep, he was sure of it, but he had _never_ had intrusion to his body of any kind, let alone in a sexual manner. Crowley paused, watching him carefully, and then very slowly started to move his wrist, dipping in and out, curling his fingers ever so slightly. 

“Oh, _oh Lord_ ” Aziraphale gasped out, face pressed against the crook of Crowley’s neck, hands clutching at his demon uselessly. He couldn’t quite stop the roll of his body, hitching his hips up to meet Crowley’s gentle intrusion. 

“You like that, don’t you,” Crowley laughed, sounding about as overwhelmed by the sensations as Aziraphale felt. He nuzzled against the angel’s hair, pressing kisses where he could reach and continued his gentle ministrations. 

Truth be told, Aziraphale had expected discomfort, perhaps even pain at first. He’d heard that it could be quite common if one was nervous or inexperienced or rushing. But nothing about Crowley’s touch felt the least bit unpleasant. Strange, certainly, a sensation he’d never experienced, but each motion of Crowley’s thumb over his clit and dip into him caused Aziraphale to cling tighter and mewl in pleasure. The spike of pleasure, the lust and love rolling off Crowley, the obscene sounds of slick skin moving together… it was better than anything Aziraphale had expected, and he was sure he’d wiggle right off the bed if Crowley wasn’t holding him. 

At some point he realized that Crowley had three fingers in him, all the way up to the knuckle (and wasn’t that a thought, a demon welcome to breach him like that? It nearly made Aziraphale giggle again) and Aziraphale wanted more. 

“Darling, could you please put your cock in me?” Aziraphale gasped out against Crowley’s sweat slick skin. He glanced up to catch a glimpse of wide yellow eyes staring down at him in shock. “I would very much like to feel you.”

“How would you like it?” Crowley gasped out, and Aziraphale smiled softly, scooting around on the bed a little more to get comfortable. 

“Just like this I believe. I don’t have much experience in what feels nice, but I do think that holding you would be agreeable.”

Crowley scrambled to get in position, nearly stumbling over Aziraphale’s legs in the process. It took a little shuffling to really arrange themselves on the bed, Aziraphale let his legs fall open just enough for Crowley to slide between them, then wrapped them around the demon’s waist. They wrapped their arms around each other then, chest to chest and breathing softly as they just watched one another for a moment. 

Aziraphale reached up with a smile and brushed damp hair away from Crowley’s forehead. 

“Come on now, darling. Don’t hold back, I want this, I want you to enjoy this as well. I love you more than anything, you know this, yes?”

“I do,” Crowley groaned and rested his forehead against Aziraphale’s for a moment. 

They stayed like that a moment longer, before Crowley reached down to grasp his cock and guide it against Aziraphale’s cunt. He was careful, and Aziraphale was glad for it. He was utterly relaxed, trusting Crowley with more than just his life easily, now that he had given himself permission to do so. But it was a bigger intrusion than fingers had been, and the feeling of fullness as Crowley slid into him fully stole his breath for a moment. 

Crowley remained completely still for a few moments, watching Aziraphale with his marigold yellow eyes, waiting as Aziraphale just breathed and got used to the feeling. How he’d gone 6000 years without ever even trying to experience something like this was beyond him now. 

Finally it all got a little too much and Aziraphale gently kicked his heels against Crowley’s butt. 

“You can move, darling.”

Crowley didn’t need to be told twice. He rolled his hips gently, then harder. Each drag of his cock inside him made Aziraphale gasp out. He tightened his grip and Crowley sped up, snapping his entire body against Aziraphale. It was both gentle and hard all at once, and Aziraphale’s nails scraped over Crowley’s shoulders in pleasure. Crowley pushed against him, changing the angle, and brushed against something inside him that made Aziraphale cry out. 

“Oh, oh there, what, just like-” Aziraphale tried to gasp out, but very soon after his words died down, moans and incoherent syllables being the only thing that he could get out. Crowley didn’t seem to need any direction however, instinctively picking up at the smallest of tells to repeat exactly each motion that drove Aziraphale’s pleasure higher, fanning the flames at his core easily. 

Their faces were close together, and though Aziraphale could do little but throw his head back and moan, Crowley kept kissing him, the corner of his mouth, his cheeks, his jawline. His groans and quiet whimpers right by Aziraphale’s ear, arms once again bracketing the angel. 

Aziraphale could scarcely move of his own accord, his body refusing any motion that wasn’t a reaction to his pleasure, a thrust up to meet Crowley’s easily. As if that wasn’t enough he could also feel the love crashing over him, pulling him under deeper and deeper with every heartbeat. It filled the air, was heavy and sweet on his tongue. Crowley was all around him, his arms and body shielding Aziraphale from the world, he was in him, in more ways than once. 

In all of his existence Aziraphale had only ever felt so thoroughly and utterly loved, cherished, appreciated once. Back before things had begun, before angels had bodies or even corporations, back when they had all been one big mass of barely individual consciousness. It had been God’s love, before they became who they were, and Aziraphale barely even remembered that sensation. For one mad moment Aziraphale wondered whether it hadn’t just been Crowley’s love he’d felt then, echoing back in time through existence. 

He desperately grasped at Crowley’s shoulders for purchase, crying out as he felt his climax approaching, instinctively knowing that this was what the sensations in his body were leading to. Crowley must have felt it too, as he sped up his motions, redoubling his efforts to hit just the right spot that drove Aziraphale out of his mind. 

When it happened Aziraphale cried out against Crowley’s lips, arms and legs tightening. His entire body shook with it, clenching hard against Crowley inside him. He threw his head back against the pillows, feeling hot all over. One moment he felt his entire body go slack, legs trembling, the next he renewed his grip, feeling Crowley try to pull away. 

“Come in me,” he begged, holding Crowley too hard to let the demon go anywhere at all. “Let me feel it.”

He didn’t need to be told twice. With a whimper of his name Crowley did what was asked of him, his thrusts growing unsteady quickly. He didn’t last very long, not with Aziraphale whispering encouragements against his skin. 

“I love you,” Aziraphale whispered against Crowley’s ear, and sighed happily as he felt Crowley’s whimper and the stuttering of his hips as he came. An all together new type of heat filled Aziraphale. 

Crowley sagged against Aziraphale then, his arms trembling slightly. He rested his cheek against Aziraphale’s chest, both of them catching their breath. He glanced up when Aziraphale started to finger comb his hair gently, trying to push it back into a semblance of his usual style. 

“I don’t suppose you’d like to give a performance review?” Crowley joked, but his smile was tender, fingers playing with Aziraphale’s chest hair. 

“Ah, of course,” Aziraphale laughed. “If I had known how this would feel like I’d have reconsidered my loyalty to Heaven much sooner, I believe.”

They look at each other for a few seconds and then both broke into laughter. Aziraphale tugged Crowley up and into a kiss again, deep and lazy and with none of the heat. He felt tired in a deliciously relaxed way, and Crowley seemed loose and happy as well. After a while they broke apart finally, and Crowley rolled off Aziraphale very gently, pulling out of him as he did so. Aziraphale gasped quietly at the sensation, feeling something hot run over his thigh. For a moment he wondered whether Crowley’s come in him might grow uncomfortable, but then decided that it shouldn’t, altering reality just a little bit to suit him. 

Crowley curled against one of the pillows, glancing at Aziraphale with a sleepy smile. His hand remained on Aziraphale’s shoulder, as if he was reluctant to let go. While not one for sleeping himself, Aziraphale couldn’t help but feel the need to join his demon like that, and what was one more first time for a new experience anyway?

He snapped his fingers and found himself in a cosy dressing gown, one that he had purchased in the early 19th century and hadn’t had much opportunity to wear. It was a dark red with gold detailing, and Crowley’s eyes narrowed with a smile as he saw it. 

“Not really what one wears to sleep, angel,” he said, and Aziraphale raised his eyebrows at Crowley’s apparent intention to sleep in the nude. 

“Pardon me, but I don’t actually have anything else for this purpose.”

“’s not a bad thing. You look comfortable, I like it.”

Crowley’s arms wrapped around Aziraphale’s waist, pulling him close until they were lying with their limbs tangled once more. A snap and a demonic miracle later, and the blankets were now covering them, leaving nothing but their heads exposed. Aziraphale wiggled to get comfortable and Crowley pressed his face against Aziraphale’s throat, letting out a happy hum. 

“Thank you, angel. I’ve never dreamed I could actually have this.”

“Of course, my love. Anything you ever wanted is yours, I promise,” Aziraphale replied, kissing the top of Crowley’s head. “We’re on our own side after all. Who could stop us now?”

Crowley smiled and moments later was asleep, breathing quietly as he lay in Aziraphale’s arms. It was the most at peace Aziraphale had felt in a long long while. For a moment Aziraphale worried about how he was supposed to go about falling asleep, but with the love of his life warm in his arms, it really didn’t take very long for his eyes to drift shut and sleep to take him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some descriptions and threats of violence and uh... 
> 
> Heartbreak...

Crowley awoke to an unprecedented combination of delight at waking up and unwillingness to move even a single inch. Soft huffs of breath tickled his neck and arms were loosely wrapped around his waist, leaving Crowley with no doubts about last night’s events being real. 

He was _free_. Free to love, free of Hell, free to be with Aziraphale without worrying. And not only that, his angel happily accepted the very same regarding his own side. His _former_ side, more like. 

Turning his head Crowley glanced down at Aziraphale’s peaceful face. He couldn’t remember ever seeing the angel asleep out of his own volition, rather than half passed out from wine or exhaustion. He wasn’t pretending either, he had indeed joined Crowley in slumber right after they- 

The thought of last night specifically made Crowley struggle to keep his arms still, the urge to cover his face and scream quietly nearly overwhelming. He had finally gotten to make love to the one being in creation he wanted to spend eternity with, and it had been _perfect_. Never had he imagined that it might be like this, done in freedom, without fear of discovery, urgent only in their eagerness, not because they were in a rush. 

Aziraphale stirred then, blinking up at Crowley blearily, unused to the sensation of waking up and the soft fuzzy perception of the world that followed. Crowley froze, worried for a moment that he had misunderstood the situation, but then Aziraphale blinked again, and his face melted into the warmest smile. 

“My darling,” he said, voice rough with sleep, and love rushed through every cracked part of Crowley’s soul that had once contained his Grace. “Good morning.”

“First time waking up. How’s that experience gone for you, sleepy head?” Crowley teased, unable to help himself. 

Aziraphale hummed and nuzzled deeper into the pillows, tugging Crowley closer as well. 

“Delightful. Though I doubt it would have been as pleasurable without my love right next to me to share the experience.” 

Crowley leaned down to kiss Aziraphale on the nose, unable to help himself, and laughed when the angel scrunched it up in response. 

“Well, I’d be more than happy to show you the joys of staying in bed all morning, but that’ll have to wait for tomorrow.”

Aziraphale glanced up at that, pouting. 

“Why not today?”

The pout was very much Crowley’s weakness, but he didn’t crumble before it as easily as Aziraphale seemed to think. 

“Because I still didn’t have the chance to fully check my own flat for any damage my old colleagues might have done. And I’ve got some things stashed away I need to make sure weren’t broken.”

Aziraphale paused to think about that for a moment, then nodded. He rolled away to release Crowley from his hold, reclining against the pillows in a way that was a pretty hard blow against Crowley’s resolve. 

“I suppose it’s only fair that you do, my dear. Go and do what you must, I’ll be here when you come back. We can return right back to it if we’re in the mood then.”

Crowley’s heart thundered in his chest at the sight before him, the promise of more, of this being the new normal. He had never thought that such a thing could happen. 

“Won’t even get the time to miss me,” he promised, snapping his fingers to be fully dressed in a second. 

Aziraphale hummed thoughtfully, still smiling sleepily. 

“I quite doubt that. I love you.”

Crowley’s breath most definitely didn’t hitch, but he did lean down to kiss Aziraphale’s pretty lips. Then he got out of bed and rushed out as quickly as he could with one last smile at Aziraphale. Any moment longer and he’d crawl right back under the covers and into his angel’s arms. 

It wasn’t a very long walk from Aziraphale’s place back to his flat, even though Crowley was rather unaccustomed to actually taking the trip on foot. He’d chosen his flats over the past decades based on how nice the part of town was and how close to the bookshop it happened to be. Not too close to get them into trouble for being in too close a proximity of course. That wasn’t a problem Crowley would ever have to worry about again. Perhaps he should relocate. Though one thing after the other, first he needed to wrap his mind around actually getting to consider it at all. 

The Bentley stood in front of the apartment building, just as Aziraphale had said she did. Crowley had to pause for a moment, overcome with how lucky he was. All things considered a car, even one as dear to him as the Bentley, was a small price to pay for the world still turning as it did, and Aziraphale at his side. But he _was_ glad to see her. 

The Bentley unlocked under the touch of his hand and the whisper of demonic suggestion, and Crowley felt like he was being embraced as he slid into the familiar seat behind the wheel. It suited him like nothing else did, welcoming him back. The engine roared as if it hadn’t burned to a crisp only two days ago, speeding through literal fire to bring Crowley where he needed to be. 

“One more trip and then you can take a break,” Crowley promised the car with a gentle pat to the wheel. “I’ll take care of you and make sure that Antichrist fixed you up right.”

The Bentley hadn’t been parked very far from the entrance to the underground garage that Crowley’s building sported. Normally he left it there if he didn’t plan to go out very soon after, just to make sure nobody so much as thought of scratching the pristine paint. Once safely in her old spot Crowley climbed out of the car and lovingly ran his hand over her. She looked exactly as he remembered, not a speck of dust, still exactly the way he’d gotten her all those decades back. 

Leaving her with a smile Crowley made his way through the cool and empty garage towards the exit, resisting the urge to whistle a tune. If the Antichrist had restored the burning wreck of a car to that, he had no doubts his own home would be just fine as well. The check up wouldn’t last very long at all before he could return to Aziraphale and make sure that the angel felt thoroughly loved. 

Being an enclosed car filled space, the garage’s natural scent of gasoline and exhaust fumes disguised the smell that filled the air within seconds as Crowley stepped out into the open. He paused, licking his lips and looking around carefully, trying to place it. By the time the combined wave of burned hair and ozone made him gag he was already surrounded by angels and demons alike, too close for comfort, too close to try and make a dash for it. 

A kick to the stomach sent Crowley reeling backwards, and then a brutal grip was twisting his arm behind his back and up, pushing him to his knees. A glance back and Crowley found himself face to face with the golden toothed growl of a balding angel, Gabriel’s personal enforcer. 

“Fancy seeing you collaborating here,” Crowley gasped out with a laugh, trying to play it off cool. There was nothing anyone could do to him anymore, they’d won. “Thought it was all part of the agreement to leave us alone?”

With the iron grip on his arm Crowley couldn’t fully look around to see who exactly was there. Half a dozen angels or demons, besides Sandalphon, he reconned; but of course some of the cowards were behind his back and out of his line of sight. No matter, the two ringleaders stepped out in front of him without further prompting. 

Hastur’s eyes were near manic, two pools of inky black staring down at Crowley with disdain. At his side the smarmy grin that had ordered Crowley - _Aziraphale_ to his death, Gabriel looked as if he was just about to start a rather boring office meeting with all the false cheer so inherent to painfully enthusiastic bosses around the world.

“It was indeed,” Gabriel started. “But you must understand, we can’t just simply let you run around on Earth without protecting ourselves from whatever you have become.”

“You and your posh angel thought you could just mock and threaten us,” Hastur threw in, interrupting Gabriel who rolled his eyes theatrically. 

Hastur prowled close, only closing the distance when Sandalphon increased the pressure of his hold and forced Crowley further down. They were afraid or didn’t want to take any chances of him bolting. This close Crowley had to fight the instinctive sneer at Hastur’s scent of dampness and the sourness of musty cloth.

“Thought you could just cause a commotion in Hell, make us Dukes wrangle a bunch of unruly demons then what? Up and leave?”

“Doesn’t take much to rile them up,” Crowley quipped, ignoring the pang of pain is his bones as the angel behind him twisted his arm slightly.

Hastur paused, blinked once, sniffed. His face twisted in a grimace of horror that Crowley would have found quite funny under different circumstances.

“And you’ve already gone and done it with that angel!” Hastur shrieked. “Couldn’t even wait one day to consummate your holy- un- that terrible unnatural thing. You’ve really gone native.”

The angels present threw each other glances while the demons sniffed the ear and sneered. Crowley privately cursed his haste in coming here straight after leaving Aziraphale’s soft embrace. Whether they could feel whatever semblance of lust was left or just plain smelled the sex was unclear, but it didn’t matter.

He couldn’t help but throw a mocking grin up at his captors, ignoring the unease rising in his gut. They were believed to be indestructible, nothing Crowley had done with Aziraphale would put them into more trouble than they already had landed themselves in anyway. 

Gabriel took a moment to process what had been said, then let out a grown of disgust, frowning and shaking his head. 

“I knew Aziraphale was a little odd, but to associate with a demon and sully his body with _that_ ” - he gestures emphatically, which Crowley found quite rich coming from an angel currently surrounded by the stench of Hell and deformed beings that couldn’t really pass as human at all - “It truly was too late for him.”

Crowley snorted quietly.

“Sure was. Now gentlemen, ladies-” he nodded at the demon with a twisted piglike face nearest to him, who gave him a deathglare “-are you gathered here to discuss my sex life or do you want something? I’ve got some business to attend to.”

Hastur glanced back at Gabriel, who nodded. Immediately Crowley felt the icy grip of a meaty hand on his neck, forcing him to remain still. He hissed out in anger, trying briefly to dislodge the hand but decided he’d rather not risk Sandalphon snapping his neck.

“It’s quite simple,” Gabriel said pleasantly, his voice sickly sweet, the angels in Crowley’s line of sight dithering nervously. He couldn’t really look anywhere but straight at Hastur and Gabriel, the inability to track everyone else making him increasingly more nervous. He’d never been a fighter, had never needed to rely on being able to take down someone in a direct attack. It would get too tiring in Hell, he’d always relied on outsmarting the others, getting away, avoiding eyes on him. 

“We can’t allow two beings… ah. Whatever you have become. We can’t let two out of control powerful beings wander around Earth, able to defy Heaven and Hell, with powers we don’t even understand yet. Let alone _together_.”

Gabriel spread his hands and nodded. 

“You see, it is quite important that you and Aziraphale don’t end up teaming up against the rest of us.”

“What, scared of one angel and one demon?” Crowley sneered, but he was starting to seriously worry about this. There was nothing they could do, he tried to remind himself, nothing they would try.

“We do not appreciate an unknown factor,” Gabriel shot back, his pleasant demeanor slipping. “So you see, you will have to stop…” he pulled a face. “Associating with the disgraced Principality. What is it the humans say? Break… off? Up? Ah, either way. That’s what you’ll do.”

Crowley blinked, slow, deliberate. 

“No?” he said, not comprehending why Gabriel would think he would ever do that. “Why would I? As you said, you can’t do anything.”

Gabriel looked up over his shoulder with a raised eyebrow, and then Crowley was pushed down into the concrete floor face first. He yelped, his glasses digging into his skin. Sandalphon held him fast, and Gabriel had to step closer to keep the eye contact.

“We can’t destroy him, no,” Gabriel said. “But back in Heaven, we were able to restrain him, so that is a possibility. And once he’s restrained, we can do anything short of destroying him. That’s a lot of options. Humans have ten fingers. Ten toes. All sorts of things that can break. And heal. And break again.”

Gabriel ran a finger over his own hand. 

“So many digits too. So many tiny parts we can break and cut and do it all over again. And should we accidentally go too far and break his corporation? Why, we can always provide a new one.”

Crowley shuddered at the memory of witnessing what human were capable of doing to one another and Gabriel had the gall to laugh. “Let me put it in simple terms. You break off your association completely: no more fancy dates or whatever it is you two traitors do. And we might just let Aziraphale wander around with his corporation intact. Without being detained up in Heaven and his corporation at our disposal.”

His eyes flashed cold, any trace of the act gone for a moment, leaving only one pompous archangel behind. 

“Otherwise, your little angel has an eternity of every torture designed by Heaven and Hell. I’m sure you know what sort of stuff they employ downstairs, don’t you? Know that Heaven is _better_ at everything, even such distasteful acts.”

Crowley felt his heart beat faster in a panic as he tried to come up with a solution and realized there were none. Crowley had protected Aziraphale from hellfire, but eternal torture was not something he could stop. Not if Aziraphale was discorporated over and over again. Not if he was trapped in Heaven.

“Are we clear?” Gabriel asked, voice sharp, making Crowley want to turn into something small and slithery to escape. 

“Crystal,” Crowley ground out. 

“Wonderful,” Gabriel exclaimed, clapping once in delight, immediately back to the fake cheer. 

He stepped aside as Hastur approached, obviously not wanting to be too close to the demon. Hastur crouched down, his mudstained boots inches from Crowley’s nose. He cocked his head, staring down for a moment, before reaching out to grab Crowley’s hair and grind his face harder against the ground. 

“Don’t worry, Demon Crowley,” he mocked. “Hell has no interest in taking _you_ back for this kind of treatment. We’d just get riots about whatever it is you are. No. We want Hell to forget and that’s best done with you stuck up here.”

He pressed harder, Crowley’s glasses bending with the pressure, and he had to grit his teeth to keep himself from making a noise. Better not give Hastur the satisfaction. 

“But we spoke to these bird brains here and decided suffering would do just fine,” the Duke went on. “Demons don’t get whatever disgusting idea of a happy end you think you earned here. Know your place.”

He hissed the last words against Crowley’s ear, spit flying. Then he shoved at Crowley’s head, got up, and retreated out of sight. 

Sandalphon let up his hold for a bit, but Crowley didn’t dare move, afraid that he’d get an even rougher treatment if they thought he was about to try something. It wasn’t the fear paralyzing him, he told himself, it couldn’t possibly be that. 

Gabriel looked at his watch for a moment, then turned back to Crowley with a dismissive shrug. 

“Oh, and when you tell Aziraphale that you’re done with him? I want him alone. I want him hurt. Being alone on this wretched planet is what he has earned. If this whole ordeal ends with Aziraphale coming back to beg for forgiveness to be let back into Heaven or ending up Falling into Hell? Well, that’s one less problem for us to deal with.”

“We’re watching. We’ll know,” Sandolphan sneered.

“Make it good,” Gabriel added. “Or should I say bad?”

He laughed at his own joke and then all at once the hands pinning Crowley down were gone, and with one last suspicious glance all angels and demons disappeared, leaving him completely alone on the ground of the underground garage. 

It took Crowley a few moments to regain control of his limbs, and yet more to remember how to get up. His hands shook terribly as he pushed himself up, sitting on his knees and looking around. One of his lenses had cracked and his sunglasses were irreparably crooked, and there was probably some mark on his cheek where he had been pressed to the rough concrete. Other than that and the panicked irregular race of his heart there was no evidence that anyone had been here with Crowley at all. 

*

It was a marvelously sunny day, just the perfect kind of morning to follow the perfect first day of the rest of their lives. Normally Aziraphale wasn’t one for Mondays, as he was traditionally expected to open his bookshop for even just a little bit. But today he didn’t even mind the odd human wandering inside. They seemed taken aback by his perfect mood and for once Aziraphale had a perfectly good reason to kick them out if they tried to buy something.

“I’m terribly sorry, we have just received new stock,” he told anyone who came too close to doing just that. “I’m afraid the bookshop needs to be closed for inventory.”

Adam had done a wonderful job as far as he could tell, but there were new additions all over the place. Books he’d never seen before, maps, journals that he was sure Crowley had at least somewhat influenced, and a lot of things that a young child might enjoy but Aziraphale hadn’t the slightest use for. Perhaps he might gift the stories about adventures for boys to the Antichrist or his gaggle of friends, now that he had them.

The morning went by quickly, slipping into early afternoon as Aziraphale hummed a happy tune and wrote down every change and addition he could spot. He hadn’t felt this at ease in… oh. Rather a longer time than he could remember. There was no fear of anyone unwelcome popping in, no unpleasant missions from Heaven. And once Crowley was back…

Each time the memory of last night resurfaced, which was a frequent occurrence, Aziraphale paused in his motions and touched his lips with a shy smile. After six thousand years of hesitantly growing affection he’d gone from touching Crowley without fear to kissing to learning what it was like to lie in a lover’s embrace. And there was no reason to stop either, they could just go ahead and be as they wished.

Truth be told Aziraphale would have been quite happy if the reward of surviving the Armageddon that never happened was freedom. Everything as it was, but not just what they wanted of life, free to enjoy their planet as they pleased.

That he now had an eternity to make up for with the love of his life was more than Aziraphale could have hoped for. His corporation’s heart ached with happiness, and the knowledge of being loved so completely was better than any cold affection Heaven had ever given him.

Aziraphale settled down behind his counter, smiling brightly at nothing. The sun streamed in through the windows and the skylight above, putting a gorgeous golden glow into the heart of his bookshop, the dust motes he kept for the look of it dancing around and catching the sun like tiny stars. There was so much they could do now that they were free. Perhaps Crowley would invite him along to the theatre or the park. They could go and have a late lunch or perhaps dinner together, for the very first time not worried about whether anyone got any ideas about the nature of their outing. 

Oh how lovely it would be. Aziraphale had never been one for touching others much, but he could imagine that it would be nice to walk hand in hand with Crowley, or sit close no matter the restaurant, lean together and show affection in the ways he’d seen human couples do while dining with Crowley before. 

How wonderful would it be to smile and turn to a human and refer to Crowley as his… well… what were they anyway? Partners? Lovers? Aziraphale was sure that this wasn’t a word humans used much, and boyfriend seemed quite youthful and not even true most of the time (while neither had ever been a boy, Crowley was known to frequently move about the world not even appearing to be a man in the first place).

The specific vocabulary didn’t matter, Aziraphale supposed. What did matter was that Crowley was truly _his_.

The day stretched on and Aziraphale amended his plans to dinner, as it was surely too late for lunch. He also couldn’t wait to have Crowley back in his bed as well, though he wasn’t sure whether he wanted to be held and cuddle his demon, or whether he wanted a repeat performance of last night. Both options sounded wonderful, and Aziraphale supposed that both would be an option in his future.

When the bell rang Aziraphale had to glance up to confirm that it was indeed his beloved this time, and not another customer to be sent back out cheerfully. 

Crowley was wearing a different jacket than last night, but otherwise there was nothing changed about the way he sauntered in, past the low tables stacked with books and one of the pillars. Nothing changed other than of course, the very nature of their relationship.

“Welcome back, darling,” Aziraphale greeted him warmly. He put down the book he’d been examining before and stepped out from behind his counter to be closer to Crowley.

“I hope everything in your flat is as it should be?”

Crowley hummed noncommittally, turning away from Aziraphale and running his hand over one of the shelves filled with ancient measuring devices.

“Plants are a bit more spooked than usual and there’s a weird smell in my office. ‘S alright though.”

“I’m happy to hear that,” Aziraphale said, letting his eyes roam over Crowley’s back freely. He’d quite enjoyed touching it the night before, and the jacket really did highlight the best qualities of Crowley’s light figure.

“I was thinking that we could go out and have a meal together. When was the last time we had Ethiopian? I happen to know a quaint little place that has the most lovely wine, you would enjoy it.”

Crowley turned to watch him as Aziraphale went on describing the place, sunlight catching on the lenses of his sunglasses and turning them into golden discs.

“Perhaps after we finish our… oh, I suppose our _date_ ,” Aziraphale went on, feeling his cheeks flush pleasantly as he glanced at Crowley from beneath his lashes. “We could come back here and resume what we started last night? I did so hate to see you go this morning.”

Crowley looked at Aziraphale for a few more moments before turning back towards the shelf, face turned down and away.

“I don’t think we will,” he said quietly.

“Oh.”

Aziraphale’s shoulders slumped a little in disappointment, but then he remembered that Crowley rarely indulged in certain earthly pleasures as much as Aziraphale did.

“Oh, that’s quite alright then, my love. We can indulge whenever you wish to, I’m quite happy to try anything you’d like whenever you please.”

Crowley’s hand clenched against the shelf, before he drew it back and shook his head, glasses flashing in the overhead light

“What if I don’t please?”

At this Aziraphale paused, feeling a flare of disappointment. He had enjoyed sleeping with Crowley a great deal, and to be told he wouldn’t get to again was a blow. He wasn’t even sure if he’d enjoy himself on his own anywhere near as much yet.

“I thought you enjoyed yourself?” he asked hesitantly. Surely they could figure out something they could do together.

At this Crowley’s face twisted, nose scrunched up. He was staring at Aziraphale, eyes completely hidden, teeth bared.

He looked at the ceiling and let out a laugh, raw and mocking. “Did you really think that? It wasn’t even that good of a fuck. You think I’d want to try that again?”

A shiver ran down Aziraphale’s spine and he felt his face flush in shame. He had been so sure that Crowley had fun last night, that he had enjoyed himself. He’d been so careful in making Aziraphale feel good, surely he-

“I’m sorry,” Aziraphale blurted out. “I can do better next time if- that is to say- was I the problem? I know I don’t have the experience you might be used to but I can learn to please you, if that is the issue.”

Crowley shook his head.

“There’s not going to be a next time.”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, feeling small and stupid and vulnerable. Something about the cold dismissal in Crowley’s voice made him want to hide away and nurse his wounded self esteem. It wasn’t like Crowley to be so harsh about these kinds of things, even when Aziraphale did something that bothered the demon he would tease and joke and complain, but never quite so harshly.

“You’re right. We don’t have to,” Aziraphale reassured him with a nervous smile. As wonderful as it had been, he’d gone millenia without having sex with Crowley. He would be quite alright going on without it. “Not every couple has carnal relations. Love can take many forms after all, and romantic relationships can exist just as happily without anything sexual. I’ll be happy with anything you want, darling.”

At this Crowley’s lips twitched. It looked like it was meant to be a smile, but there was something cold and cruel about it that Aziraphale had never seen on his face before.

“Romantic relationship?” Crowley let out a long disbelieving breath. “You really got the wrong idea didn’t you? I knew you were a bit of an idiot but…”

Aziraphale’s mouth dropped open. It took him a moment to process the words, before he could take a step towards Crowley.

“What are you talking about? Of course we’re in a relationship!”

Crowley’s nose wrinkled like he’d just smelled something bad. “We’re not even friends.”

Crowley cocked his head to the side, staring at Aziraphale who had frozen on the spot.

“Is this some cruel revenge against what I said? Crowley, you know I didn’t mean any of those things! Surely you do!”

Crowley shrugged and idly ran his hand along a few books as he wandered away from Aziraphale.

“Just calling it like I see it.”

Aziraphale followed behind him, heart hammering away in his chest. He felt as if his entire body would shatter at any moment. Crowley’s words and tone and general demeanour didn’t make sense at all.

“That can’t be true. Why would you do the things we did? Why would you sleep with me if you don’t-“

Aziraphale gasped quietly, stopping again as Crowley threw a look over his shoulder. One eyebrow raised, lip curled.

His heart sank as something dark and cold settled in his stomach. “Crowley, did you not actually want to sleep with me? Did you feel pressured by my expectations?”

“What?” Crowley frowned at that, for one moment looking just as he always did, loose and warm and familiar, before snapping back to the cruel smile. “Course I wanted to. Got it up, didn’t I? You don’t spend six thousand years wondering what it’s like to fuck someone just to pass up an opportunity.”

Crowley laughed again, cold and disbelieving. The icy feeling inside Aziraphale was spreading out, consuming his limbs and making him feel weak. 

“So I did. I fucked an angel. Bully for me. Got a taste and that was just fine. Wasn’t as good as I thought it would be though. Definitely don’t need a repeat performance.”

Aziraphale felt something in his eyes burning, his stomach clenched uncomfortably.

“You don’t mean that.”

“What? Did you think I’d pass up on the chance of fucking the one angel who I _might_ be able to trick into bed?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale snapped, finally closing the distance between them. He reached out but stopped when Crowley flinched away, much as he wanted to grab the lapels of his jacket, to shake him, to understand how he could say such horrible things.

“Why are you saying something so… so- so _mean_? I know that you’re lying, it wasn’t about that! I’m an angel, I can feel love. And you _love_ me! I know it!”

“I never said that,” Crowley reminded him, and Aziraphale had to resist the urge to shake him again.

“You didn’t need to, I’ve always felt it clearly!”

They stared at each other, Aziraphale feeling as if his heart’s wild rhythm would make him sick. His hands shook so hard that even clasping them together didn’t stop the tremors.

“Really?” Crowley asked, face carefully blank. “I’m pretty sure you’re projecting, an- Aziraphale. I didn’t say it because I don’t feel it. Why would I? ”

Aziraphale scoffed, but focused in on the familiar ever present trickle of love that had always come from Crowley. He didn’t even need to search for it, he always could feel it-

Only now there was nothing. Instead of the familiar warmth of gentle affection or the passionate flare of adoration there was… nothing. Just absence of any emotion whatsoever, nothing but a cold concrete wall where usually Aziraphale could easily pick up on it.

He felt himself shake, shock taking hold of him.

“But why-“ he whispered. It had always been there, even before he knew that what he felt for Crowley was love. How could it possibly be gone now.

Crowley stared at him for a moment longer. 

“That’s kind of sad,” he said, shaking his head. “Shouldn’t be surprised really. I came by because I didn’t want you to come sniffing around my place. I’m not interested. We’re not working so we don’t need the Arrangement anymore. No need to have you around, falling all over me. I’ve got a nice retired existence ahead of me and I’d rather not have you in it. Have a nice day, _angel_.”

Aziraphale was too shaken to stop him, his body trembling and frozen to the spot as he watched Crowley leave, his vision going blurred at the edges. All he could see was Crowley leaving him, Crowley leaving not because of any attempt to push him away or hurt him. It was as if Aziraphale’s entire world view was shattered as the door opened, worse than when he realized just how horrid Heaven could be. The doorbell rang and Aziraphale wanted to run and keep Crowley there. This was against everything he knew, against every law of nature. Crowley leaving like that was akin to gravity reversing and time running out of order.

“Don’t go,” Aziraphale whimpered the moment he regained control of his voice, but the words were heard by no one, the shop empty once more.

*

The Bentley drove in sharper curves, looping between other cars with barely an inch to spare, and racing through the streets erratically. More so than normal. 

Crowley vaguely felt his chest heaving but no air passed his lips as his lungs desperately tried to suck it in out of habit. Were he human he would have passed out already, but like this he just whitekunckled the wheel and raced away from the bookshop as fast as he could make himself. 

The look on Aziraphale’s face as he’d lied through his teeth… 

It was all too much. 

He’d known that angels could sense love in the air, but he hadn’t known that Aziraphale had so easily been able to feel his own. That Crowley’s love for him was just natural to Aziraphale, as certain a constant as the sun rising and the stars existing regardless of cloudy skies blocking the view. The confusion on his angel’s face as Crowley had pulled wards up around himself to stop any of his emotions from reaching him had been terrible. 

There was a lot Crowley had done he hadn’t been happy about, direct orders from Hell that weren’t free for interpretation, bad decisions he’d made in 6000 years, nasty moments when he’d been meaner than a situation called for. But this? Breaking Aziraphale’s heart and landing a blow against his world view?

He was no better than Heaven in hurting his angel. 

The second Crowley was far enough from Soho to no longer be in Aziraphale’s direct territory the Bentley swerved to the side of the road, coming to a screeching halt in a no park zone, not even lined up with the pavement correctly. Crowley’s hands fell off the steering wheel, shaking terribly. A strange high pitch whistling sound rose unbidden from Crowley’s vocal cords. 

The best thing he’d ever had, fought for, suffered for, waited for… He’d clawed a place for himself in the world, away from Heaven or Hell, fought to protect it, fought and waited and hoped for Aziraphale to join him willingly, happily. And of course, _of course_ he couldn’t keep that little bubble of perfect happiness. Less than 24 hours to enjoy what Crowley thought was his reward for all the crap he’d quietly endured before. And for what? Because those twice damned and blessedly cruel groups above and below were too afraid of two free agents? Needed to seperate them? 

He’d spent hours sitting in his flat, surrounded by his plants, numb to it all. Crowley had tried to think of a way out, anything. But it had been too straightforward. Break Aziraphale’s heart, make sure he’s alone and upset and no longer willing to be near him, make sure they both were apart. Or risk Aziraphale being trapped in Heaven for the rest of eternity, tortured, in pain, at the mercy of angels who wouldn’t even try to destroy him. In the end it hadn’t even been a real choice. 

Curling up tight in his seat Crowley brought his legs up and buried his face in his hands, ignoring how his glasses were digging into his face. He wailed quietly, feeling scales itch against his skin and fangs growing in his mouth as he lost his grip. Around the Bentley humans averted their eyes, suddenly feeling like they didn’t much care about the badly parked car, and no sound escaped outside. The Bentley knew better than to allow the demon’s wails and screams of anger and despair to leak out at all.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aziraphale going through the stages of grief regarding his relationship and what he thought he knew Crowley was like

Aziraphale was alone, truly alone for what felt like the first time in his life. He’d always had the vague concept of Heaven being ever present, making sure he wasn’t alone in a not precisely positive spin of the word. Always watched and scrutinized by other angels, always with the awareness that he had a side. He’d always had Crowley, even in the years where they couldn’t associate properly, or when Aziraphale truly pushed him away. The certainty of Crowley had always been there. 

Through everything Aziraphale had known that Crowley would at the very least begrudgingly be there, be around, maybe not want to be friends but at least honouring the Arrangement. Even when Heaven had shown its face, knowing that he had hurt his best friend and sent him off to the stars. Even then…

Aziraphale wasn’t quite sure how he ended up in the bedroom, but his shaking hands had grabbed on to a pillow, clutching at it as if a feather filled bag might anchor him to reality. With a deep breath Aziraphale held it tighter, realizing with a pang that it did not carried the scent of Crowley in it, where before it had only ever been clean fabric or tea. 

His eyes burned but Aziraphale had not shed a tear in longer than he could remember, perhaps ever. He’d always swallowed them down, stiffened his shoulders and endured until the moment passed. He would not cry now either, it was simply not a done thing. He needed his wits about him to understand what had happened not even an hour before. Crowley had said such cruel and unkind things, rejected him in ways that Aziraphale desperately hoped he had never done to the demon himself. 

Of course Crowley had always been free in how he mocked all of Aziraphale’s shortcomings, but it had never been like this. It had always been banter, small and inconsequential things, much as Aziraphale complained about Crowley’s driving or his fashion or his frankly ridiculous opinions on classic slavic poetry. It had never felt this personal and direct. And it had certainly never shaken Aziraphale’s certainty in Crowley’s emotions. 

There simply was no way Crowley had spent the better part of existence being kind and nice and sweet and thoughtful just to… what? Get an angel into bed? If it had been just about that, then Aziraphale was certain that a direct push, a temptation when he was already warm and relaxed with his guard down would have done the trick. His resolve in following Heaven’s orders and keeping anyone from finding out had never cracked but it had loosed on occasion. If Crowley had just been after sex without the emotions he might have gotten it!

No, it had been love, Aziraphale was certain. He _knew_. He must have been too distraught to feel it coming from Crowley. It happened sometimes, when his own emotions were too messy to parce, that Aziraphale struggled to get a read on what was in the air around him. There was no way Crowley had faked millenia worth of affection, and surely Aziraphale would have noticed if what he felt was just his own love reflected back to him? And even so, Aziraphale could tell the way humans did, with no angelic senses involved. He’d seen Crowley at peace and too exhausted to pretend and drunk and vulnerable. Had seen the affectionate curl of his lips, had heard his quiet laughs. There was just no way Crowley had faked all of it. It would have been much too much effort for something he must have known he’d never get. Neither had ever expected to be free to do what they pleased, so why would Crowley have held out for this sort of thing?

Aziraphale buried his face in the pillow, breathing in and thinking back to how carefully Crowley had held him, how gentle his hands had been. He’d been so concerned with making it good for Aziraphale, asking him what he liked and how to proceed and what he wanted. While Aziraphale had no real frame of comparison he couldn’t imagine that somehow who just wanted sex for the thrill of it would act like this. There wouldn’t have been a reason for Crowley to fake affection even then if it was his end goal. 

Carefully setting the pillow back Aziraphale straightened his back and nodded to himself in a feeble attempt to regain his composure. This was all some… terrible mistake. There was an explanation for Crowley’s behaviour. And he would find out what was wrong to put things right again.

After carefully closing up the bookshop Aziraphale made his way to Crowley’s flat, walking slowly and with purpose, hoping that he wouldn’t be quite as shaken by the time he arrived. It was a lovely evening, which really didn’t help matters. This was supposed to be a day of celebration, of love, of enjoying Crowley’s company. Perhaps they still could do so, once that silly business of Crowley’s confusing behaviour was resolved. They would probably be able to laugh about it quite soon. 

The entrance to Crowley’s building had an electric lock which Aziraphale chose to ignore. Nobody else was nearby but he could feel the vague tingle of demonic presence, and as Aziraphale walked all the way up to where Crowley’s own appartement was he saw no trace of any neighbours. 

Facing the heavy door to Crowley’s appartement he took another fortifying breath and steeled himself. There was no guarantee that the demon was home of course, but Aziraphale reached out and rang the custom made snake shaped door bell anyway. There was no reaction, as expected, but Aziraphale reamined where he was. He could be patient, and he knew Crowley sometimes got lost in whatever he was up to, be it sleep or games on his phone, or whatever else he might be up to. Minutes passed and Aziraphale decided that nobody would open after all, so he hesitantly reached out for the handle. If Crowley wasn’t there, well, then he would just sit tight and wait for him to return. 

Upon making contact with the smooth metal a faint buzz shot up Aziraphale’s arm, warning him that there were heavy wards on the entrance to Crowley’s home. They were solid, an unpleasant tingle warning any kind of celestial being away from coming any closer. Being of infernal origins it was directed at angels more so than demons, but Aziraphale knew he could force his way through if he really needed. 

What made him hesitate was that he had never seen Crowley do this before. In the past millenia Aziraphale had needed to approach whatever lair Crowley had set up on several occasions. In mountains and forests and most commonly just in a small hut at the edge of a village he had worked at. Those had usually been warded, of course, no self respecting demon would set up shop without at least some kind of warning to others, a sign that, while not being able to keep most demons or angels out fully, at least told them that they should reconsider. Aziraphale had usually stood at the edge of it, unless he knew he was invited, waiting politely for Crowley to let him inside his temporary homes. 

None of those wards had ever been this strong. None had ever been _this_ full of infernal energy. Even this very same flat hadn’t had such strong wards against angels in particular before, the night Aziraphale had nowhere else to go and they had needed to think of a plan to survive. They were recent, possibly freshly made just hours ago, when Crowley had said he needed to go do something in his flat. It couldn’t have been a more clear sign that Aziraphale wasn’t welcome anymore. 

He stood at the door, aghast, trying to remember any point in time Crowley had even tried anything near this drastic in keeping him out. Normally a firmly locked door was enough of a hint without any kind of power expended. Crowley respected the times Aziraphale had wanted to be alone after all, so of course Aziraphale had extended the same courtesy. So this, right after the past two nights, and after Crowley had acted so cruelly?

For a moment Aziraphale considered simply breaking through anyway. He could, if he wanted, push his way through the door and the wards and make his way into Crowley’s flat, making sure the demon wasn’t there. He could sit inside and wait, make his presence known and demand answers. But he couldn’t do this. If Crowley was indeed miffed by him for some reason it wouldn’t help to overstep his boundaries. No, Aziraphale needed patience and understanding in his attempts to get behind the reason for Crowley’s behaviour if he wanted to fix it in any way. 

With one final glance at the door Aziraphale left, feeling a weight on his shoulders pushing down. He still felt quite shaken up, the same dazed feeling as after telling Crowley that it was over between them, only magnified making him struggle to pay attention to his surroundings. Was this how Crowley had felt when he’d been rejected in favour of Heaven? Oh, he hoped not. But it would explain the cruel things he’d thrown back at Aziraphale. 

Unwilling to return to the bookshop Aziraphale instead went west, letting his feet carry him along familiar paths. The city had changed so much, had buildings that were less than a decade old where Aziraphale vividly remembered wooden shacks. But the streets themselves had barely changed, and Aziraphale followed the veins of the city easily until he was surrounded by green and the sounds of nature. 

Hyde Park wasn’t one he went to often, not with Crowley at least, so he felt both disappointed and relieved at how unlikely he was to run into the demon here. While it was the closest park to his fancy Mayfair flat Aziraphale had never run into him here by chance before. Frankly, he didn’t really know what Crowley did in the moments Aziraphale had kept his distance. He didn’t know what Crowley’s favourite haunts were, or where he went just for fun when Hell didn’t need anything from him. Oh, he did know a couple places, but it was always somewhere Aziraphale wouldn’t go casually himself. 

But the park was nice. It was late enough that there weren’t many people around anymore to soak up the last of the day’s sun, but not late enough to grow chilly yet. A couple of humans were engaging in sports on the grass, some were jogging but really not that many. The lamps hadn’t been turned on yet, but would within the hour. Birds sang and the air was fresh, the breeze helping Aziraphale force himself to take steading breaths. 

The uncertainty of the situation was making him nervous, the inability to go and fix whatever he had done wrong slowly chipping away at his composure. His hands were definitely a little shaky now. Oh, he didn’t like things that couldn’t be fixed immediately. There always was a straightforward solution to anything, or at least there ought to be. Whenever there wasn’t it left Aziraphale in quite the state. 

He was so unfocused that the flash of bright red hair was dismissed as a figment of his overly anxious mind at first. Only when Aziraphale actually looked up did he notice that the object of his distress was indeed sauntering down the path near him, back turned. Crowley looked like he was drunk, something about his gait too loose. 

“Crowley!” Aziraphale called out before he could help himself, hurrying after the demon. 

Crowley went rigid at his call and turned around with a frown, lips a thin line. He angled his body away from Aziraphale as the angel came to a halt a few steps away from him. 

“What are you doing here?” he snapped, the corners of his mouth turning down. 

Never once had Aziraphale gotten this kind of reaction from Crowley. Even when he was visibly upset at something else when Aziraphale stumbled across him, he never so obviously grew even more upset by the angel’s presence. He had never stared at him from behind his glasses like that, as if he genuinely wanted Aziraphale to be as far away from him as possible. 

“I was looking for you,” Aziraphale blurted out, wringing his hands. “But you weren’t home, and the wards… I didn’t expect…” 

He paused, hoping that maybe Crowley had put them up for anyone but him. 

“Yeah, thought those were enough of a hint that you’re not welcome in my flat anymore,” Crowley shot back, immediately shattering that hope. “Should’ve known better than to think you’d get the picture.”

They stared at one another, and Aziraphale tried very hard to keep his lips from wobbling. He already appeared so weak and useless before everyone, no need to make the only person who never doubted him believe so as well. 

“Please, Crowley, you can’t do this to me,” he begged, trying to force his feet to carry him forward. “I know this isn’t like you, you’ve never been cruel. Not unless Hell specifically asked you to-”

“Yes see, it’s different now that I can do what I want,” Crowley snapped, shoulders suddenly drawn up. He didn’t move, but his posture changed, tense and ready to leap, a snake ready to strike. Aziraphale flinched from the sudden flash of demonic energy around Crowley. It had never been directed at him. 

“I can do what I like now. And what I’d like is for you to get it through your thick skull that I don’t want you around. I’ve always known you were a fool but I thought at least you could take a hint.”

His voice rose, venom dripping from every word. 

“Please,” Aziraphale whispered, feeling the tears he refused to shed burning in his eyes. “I know you wouldn’t… You wouldn’t spend six millenia being so kind just for a single night. You’re good at temptations, but even you wouldn’t wait this long and be so sweet to me for nothing. And you wouldn’t have been so gentle last night if you only wanted to- ah- if you only wanted the one thing. You cared more for making me feel good than taking your own pleasure. That couldn’t have been a lie.”

Aziraphale’s voice cracked and he resisted the urge to wipe at his eyes. Something in Crowley’s posture deflated. He still looked defensive, but he was less obviously poised to attack with sharp words. Vaguely Aziraphale was aware of the humans nearby giving them nervous looks and trying to stay away. What must they look like to others, two men, one visibly shaken and upset, close to tears and hands clasped as he begged, the other full of tense rage and sharp words. At least they probably weren’t close enough to hear what they were saying exactly and guess at Aziraphale’s shame. 

Crowley let out a deep breath through his nose and rubbed at his eyes under his glasses. He remained like that for a moment, looking tired all of a sudden. 

“Sex is better when you’re both enjoying yourselves. I thought you’d give it up easier if I was _sweet_ ,” Crowley spat out the word like it tasted bad. Like he was disgusted.. “It didn’t even work. You were just as fumbling and clumsy as you are at everything else. Should have known better really. More fool me.”

Aziraphale swallowed thickly, daring to edge a little closer. Not a full step, not enough to reach out and touch Crowley. His heart ached and he wished more than anything that Crowley wasn’t saying these things. 

“Please, you can’t mean that. You are so very dear to me… I thought that you… that it was mutual.”

A sneer appeared on Crowley’s features then. 

“Oh it’s easy to say that now that you don’t have Heaven hanging over you. But when push came to shove I was just a demon. Not dear enough to choose me when you had other options. Not dear enough to be _kind_ for thousands of years of pushing me away.”

Aziraphale sucked in a breath. 

“I know that was the cruelest thing I’ve ever done,” he pleaded. “And you know I will never do such things again. You know I was too scared, Crowley, please, I’ll do better, I’ll do anything you want. Let me prove it to you.”

Crowley watched him for a long time. Aziraphale didn’t dare move under the scrutiny, holding his breath. 

Finally Crowley shook his head. 

“You’re not worth it,” he said, voice devoid of any real emotions, as if he was talking about something boring just to fill the air. “You’ve wasted my time, angel.”

And with that Crowley turned and proceeded on the way he’d been on, waving over his shoulder. 

“Don’t come to my flat again..”

The last remaining hope that this was a trick shattered with Aziraphale’s heart, leaving his chest tight and his lungs struggling to draw air they didn’t need. He couldn’t call out, couldn’t follow. 

His vision blurred and Aziraphale couldn’t bear the thought of eyes on him, humans watching and not understanding that his world had been destroyed more surely than any apocalypse could have accomplished. He needed an out, he needed to be away from the park, from the open space and the scrutiny. 

Aziraphale wasn’t entirely sure how he made his way back to the bookshop, whether his feet carried him at a normal pace or faster than a human could, or whether he just straight up miracled himself into the heart of the old building. Everything a blur, all he knew was that he needed to get as far away from Crowley as he possibly could at the moment. With nowhere else to go Aziraphale rushed up the stairs and into the flat above the bookshop. 

The bed was once again where he gravitated to, crumbling into it with all strength leaving his limbs. The very first thing Aziraphale noticed was the accursed pillow that he’d clung to mere hours before, trying to make sense of things. It still smelled of Crowley just as much as it had when he’d woken up in the morning. 

With a sudden fury Aziraphale snatched it up and threw it against the wall as hard as he could, the impact entirely unsatisfying. He raised his hand to banish the wretched thing entirely, erase it from his presence to dare remind him of the happiest hours of his existence when it seemed like his life was truly his to enjoy the way he wished. His fingers were poised to snap, but something stopped his hand. It was the only reminder of Crowley’s last remaining kindness after all. 

An anguished cry worked its way past Aziraphale’s lips and he quickly grabbed it back up, clinging to it as he collapsed on the bed once more. 

“I never believed he was that cruel sort of demon I was warned against,” Aziraphale sobbed to nobody. “Even when I wanted to think it of him.”

Something hot ran over his cheeks and with a start he realized that he was weeping. Never once had he shed a tear, always enduring bravely no matter how horridly his heart ached. It figured that it was Crowley he would cry over. 

Burying his face in the soft pillow and tears quickly soaking through the fabric Aziraphale felt the dams break. In the darkness he clung to the pillow and wailed, mourning the loss of a future he hadn’t known he could have fought for all these years.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> going from acceptance into rage today

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there's some attempts and failure at sad masturbation in this chapter

Aziraphale didn’t know how long he lay curled on his bed with a pillow that increasingly smelled of nothing clutched to his face. He was dimly aware of days passing, light and dark following one another before the window, noises reaching him from the street during the days and snippets of music at night. Part of him wanted centuries to pass, eternity leaving him lying where he was with dust covering his body until his heart stopped aching so. 

By the time the haze of sorrow eased a little it was still summer though, and there wasn’t really any more dust in the room than there had been before. The pillow no longer smelled of Crowley, and Aziraphale had shed a few tears over this as well, when the well of his heartbreak ran dry. He still couldn’t make sense of whatever had happened, or the sudden cruelty from the love of his life. 

Perhaps it really was his own fault, Aziraphale figured. He had behaved so dreadfully, and eventually Crowley had decided that he couldn’t stand the rejection. What good was Aziraphale’s word and promises of loyalty and love when he has pushed Crowley away for millenia. Perhaps he deserved what he was feeling now. 

With a heaving sigh Aziraphale performed the impossible task of sitting and placing his feet on the ground. He felt weak and empty, but then again he’d also spent several days crying and feeling sorry for himself. A meal would do wonders, and perhaps some company. 

Aziraphale had never considered starting up anything with humans, what with the hassle of it all, Heaven’s scrutiny, and then Crowley-

But it would do him good! He couldn’t wallow in self pity. If Crowley didn’t want him, then where was the harm in trying to find some happiness in a human? Being loved, cherished, held, those were all such wonderful things. It wouldn’t do to miss out on an eternity of joy just because the one he wanted most didn’t want him back. Where would that leave him? No, Aziraphale didn’t feel like missing out on something entirely just because the only thing he truly desired was out of reach. He’d survived without having Crowley for so long, he’d surely be able to do it again. 

Afraid of what he’d see Aziraphale stepped in front of the mirror in the door of his old wardrobe. His clothes looked as neat as always, not daring to wrinkle on him. His face however, was positively dreadful. Dark shadows under his puffy eyes, hair a mess, and his skin unusually pale. He really did look like he had spent days on end weeping. 

“Oh dear,” Aziraphale muttered, snapping his fingers. All at once his appearance settled back to normal, though his cheeks lacked the healthy flush and his eyes didn’t look quite as happy. After a little more scrutiny he decided that there was nothing for it. Most people probably wouldn’t spot the difference. He’d always been good at hiding any distraught state from humans. Wouldn’t do to let the subjects he was meant to protect realize that something was wrong. 

He carefully walked down the steps to the bookshop, breathing in the familiar scent of old paper and ink. It steadied him, and by the time Aziraphale reached the door and pushed it open with a happy ring of the bell he very nearly convinced himself of everything being alright. No matter what was happening, he would make himself go out into the world, enjoy the spoils of stopping Armageddon. Even if he was alone in it, Aziraphale had never permitted himself to linger on pain for too long, instead choosing to wilfully ignore it and go on as he must. This situation was no different than trying to rationalize all kinds of human tragedies he couldn’t stop and had to simply watch. 

The beautiful weather wasn’t mocking him, the perfectly warm but not stuffy summer air wasn’t making fun of him for being by himself as he walked through the streets. No, Aziraphale was merely reminded of all the beauty in the world. It didn’t truly matter if such things were best enjoyed when one had someone to share it all with, Aziraphale still had to rejoice in it all. So perhaps he had wanted to enjoy such days walking with Crowley’s hand in his, taking a nice walk in the park by a lake perhaps-

No. He mustn’t linger. 

Aziraphale found a charming café he hadn’t had the chance to visit yet, one with cream and yellow sunshades and tables behind a small cloth barrier. There were a couple of people already sitting both inside and out, and Aziraphale found himself drawn to the general feeling of happiness emanating from there. He ignored that most humans there seemed to be romantic couples out and about, much as he had wanted-

No. If he wanted romance then he would very well be able to find it in a human. How many centuries had he spent coquettishly ignoring any advances towards him? Afraid of Heaven and hopelessly waiting for an opportunity to permit the one he loved close. Well. Now he could just go ahead, surely. 

Inside the café the baristas were bustling behind the counter, which featured a truly impressive display of sandwiches made from fresh bread and biscuits. Immediately drawn to the display after days of not eating Aziraphale felt himself calm a little. Lovingly made food always cheered him up when he was upset, the comfort of something so familiar as delicate textures on his tongue welcome at any time. 

He was so engrossed in examining each and every offering that he didn’t immediately notice the human slide up to him. Only when Aziraphale realized that the intrusion into his personal space wasn’t accidental did he look up, to find a rather charming smile being flashed at him. 

“Trouble deciding?” the man asked. He looked quite fetching, with dark hair and eyes, his smile quite a pleasant thing. 

“Oh, everything does look so wonderful,” Aziraphale tittered to himself. “I’d worry about missing out on something.”

The stranger glanced at the displays and then back at the angel. 

“How about this, you get whatever strikes your fancy now, and on our next date you pick something else. That way you get to try everything.”

Aziraphale startled at the brazen comment, having grown rather unused to the boldness certain men seemed to take on when trying to approach him. He had always attracted a certain kind of cheeky roguish types, and had always rebuffed them with some amusement. 

He was nearly about to send the young man in front of him on his way, before he reconsidered. There really was no reason not to take him up on it. Had he not just decided to try? 

“Well then,” Aziraphale said, straightening up and smiling haughtily but with a certain warmth that he knew the lads in Soho had appreciated for the past century. “Then let's hope the first one lives up to expectations.” 

It kind of went downhill from there. Despite his best attempt to focus on the situation and really live in the moment, Aziraphale couldn’t help his mind drifting off. The man, who he vaguely managed to remember was named Daniel, led him outside to a lovely spot in the shade, setting their food and drinks down. He was certainly nice to look at, and had a lovely smile. 

But Aziraphale chewed on his food halfheartedly, trying very hard to listen. The human would say something about moving to London quite recently, and Aziraphale would be distracted by the way the sun made his hair shine brown. A nice colour, but not quite fiery, not quite right. His eyes were a deep dark brown that Aziraphale knew poets could write on and on about, but they were too dark, not golden, the wrong pair of eyes to look at him from across a table. 

He knew he was being lavished in attention, knew that his face reflexively twisted into kind smiles and that his eyes were warm as the human spoke. But it was no use, no matter what the man did, all Aziraphale could think of was how much he yearned to be with the one he truly loved. How could he ever think of finding happiness somewhere else if he couldn’t even stop thinking about Crowley?

People passed by the café’s outdoor area, most on their way somewhere else. Aziraphale’s eyes would occasionally drift from his companion to watch the ones walking by, naturally prone to observing the humans. It really was too lovely a day to be cooped up inside. 

Aziraphale spotted Crowley the second the demon came into view past a corner. He froze in his movements, cup halfway on its way to his mouth, and Crowley halted in his steps where he’d been sauntering with no apparent purpose. Their eyes locked, and Aziraphale could tell when Crowley’s gaze wandered just a fraction, seeing the human and the situation and the meal the two were sharing. 

His face twisted into a strange grimace, part smirk, part something Aziraphale could not parse at the distance and with sunglasses blocking most of his face. The cup was set back down with a clatter, Aziraphale’s body tensed as he prepared himself to get up and chase after Crowley, but then the moment burst and Crowley turned on his heel, returning the way he came. 

Sound crashed over Aziraphale all at once, everything more clear than it had been for the past half hour. The sight of Crowley had been like a physical punch of need and pain, and his hands shook as he folded them in his lap. 

“A friend?” Daniel asked, interrupting Aziraphale’s flare of anxiety. He glanced up to see the human look at him with a kind of pity that he simply could not bear. 

“I’m sorry,” he said, reaching out to touch Daniel’s hands in a quick blessing. He would find some nice human soon, someone who would make him quite happy indeed, someone who would not leave as Crowley had. 

Daniel’s eyes glazed over for a moment, a smile on his lips as the blessing took hold, and Aziraphale scrambled to his feet to get away. He rushed home, away from his bad decisions and his presumption that he could just go and get over Crowley with the help of some inconsequential affair. 

He didn’t even know if he _liked_ anything that wasn’t Crowley’s touch, his kisses, his company. How had he expected to succeed? Any notion of romantic love Aziraphale had for himself was tied to Crowley, how could he just go ahead and hope not to think of the demon? Even his sexual fantasies all somehow involved him. 

Aziraphale found himself back in his bedroom as if on autopilot and with a sigh he fell onto the bed. Somehow it had become the point his solace and despair centred on, the last spot he’d seen Crowley in before everything broke apart. 

Clutching at the pillow that his mind had designated as Crowley’s he tried to get comfortable. Perhaps sleep might help. Just sleep until his heart had healed over and he could at least go outside and try to be happy without wishing for the demon’s presence. Or perhaps… 

Before that night not so long ago Aziraphale had never even tried to chase pleasure. He’d yearned for it, felt his hips twitch in sympathy as he read salacious books or felt a burning need for hands on his skin. But he’d never touched, never even manifested anything to touch either. Aziraphale imagined that he would have Crowley there to satisfy any of his needs in the foreseeable future, but even like that he surely would eventually have tried it by himself. 

Biting his lip Aziraphale ran his hand over his chest and down towards his waistband. Sooner rather than later then, but he could very well pleasure himself. Prove to himself that his pleasure wasn’t tied to Crowley’s presence or affections, or anything at all. This would be the first step, Aziraphale would reach his peak all by himself, and then work his way up to having a love and sex life if he so wished. 

Pushing his trousers down Aziraphale rolled over on his back, one hand still clutching at the pillow, the other running down over the coarse hairs hiding his sex. His breathing quickened and carefully he dipped his fingers between his outer folds. It felt hot to the touch, and wet, though not as much as Aziraphale thought he remembered being that night… 

That didn’t matter though. He spread his legs a little more and started rubbing over his clit, carefully rolling it between his fingertips. Aziraphale gasped as he felt pressure built, but the sensation was sharp, intense and yet somehow not pleasurable at all. His hips twitched a little as he pushed harder, but the stimulation didn’t feel nice at all. It was just that, a stimulation with no particular satisfaction tied to it, merely the reaction of sensitive flesh. 

“Come on now,” Aziraphale bit out, feeling tears of frustration build up in his eyes as he tried to move his hand quicker. 

Other than the occasional spark of half hearted pleasure he felt nothing, so he let out a dismayed cry and tried to move his fingers lower, sticking two inside himself at once. The sharp pang of pain nearly made Aziraphale curse out. He felt tight, clenching around his fingers, and where the stretch had been magnificent last time now it was bordering on discomfort. Crowley had done these very same things, easily making Aziraphale lose his composure. What was wrong with him that he couldn’t recreate this on his own?

Withdrawing his hand Aziraphale let out a shuddering breath. He stared at the ceiling, trying not to think too hard about how dreadfully unaroused he was, and how it really seemed as if his only positive sexual experience was doomed to be tied to Crowley, and inevitably be tainted by heartbreak. 

His vision blurred, and Aziraphale realised that he was crying again. 

Of course he was, as if he hadn’t done enough of that. 

Clutching at Crowley’s pillow he rolled over again and buried his face in the soft fabric. 

*

Crowley couldn’t describe his actions as anything other than what it was; fleeing like a coward from the new reality he’d created. Of course he’d end up running into Aziraphale, of course he’d find him with a human in what was obviously a romantic setting. 

His flat was a welcome refuge as Crowley slammed the door behind him, quickly making his way to his office and grabbing the first bottle of liquor he could find on the way there. The look on Aziraphale’s face when he’d spotted him had been complicated, and Crowley hadn’t gotten the impression that the angel was particularly happy before that either. Sure, the general pleasant smile and kind expression was there, but he looked exhausted, heartbroken as he’d been when they’d last seen each other. But it was a glimpse of the future. 

Crowley had wanted for Aziraphale to move on, of course. He needed his angel happy, eventually, once he realized that he was better off without Crowley anyway. He’d go on being happy on Earth all by himself, find friends and other people to have conversations into the late hours of the morning with. And now that he wasn’t holding out for something he couldn’t have he had even imagined Aziraphale might find love. But seeing a reminder of it? 

One day his angel would find love elsewhere, would have affairs with humans, fleeting as they might be, and Crowley would only watch from the sidelines knowing that he could have had that if only… if only… 

Burying his face in his hands Crowley slumped over on his throne, body wrecked by dry sobs. He had no tears left for this. One day his angel would truly no longer be “his” and he had no idea what to do then. 

The shrill ring of his phone, freshly restored from all he’d done to it during Armageddon, startled Crowley out of his posture. 

“Crowley,” the line crackled ominously. The connection wasn’t as good as it once had been, with Hell’s officially having cut ties with him, but Hastur’s voice was unmistakable. 

“What?” Crowley snapped back, dragging his hands down his face. As if he hadn’t suffered enough in one day. 

“We have been keeping tabs. The angel has been near you again. Seeking you out. You know the deal, Crowley.”

The time Aziraphale had ran into him in the park… of course. 

“Yeah? Well he’s stubborn. Gotta take some effort to get rid of him.”

The line cracked again as Hastur hummed in displeasure. 

“Then get to it.”

“I will, and you fuck right off,” Crowley hissed, feeling his fangs sharpen as he slammed his hand on the phone and broke the connection. 

Immediately wonderful silence was back in the flat, as well as Crowley’s paralyzing distress. With a deep sigh he slumped back and flicked off the cap of his whiskey. No time for oblivion like now. 

*

The silence didn’t last. It never did. 

_“Ah. Are you there? Oh I can never tell if it’s you or that terrible- oh never mind. I wanted to let you know that I’m alright, the bookshop is alright. Finally got to go through everything and I thought you might like to know.”_

_“Hello. Aziraphale here. Oh well you know it’s me, who else would be calling. Or perhaps there are others? Not- not that I have anything against that, you surely have lots of people calling you on the phone. Oh dear, I believe I’m rambling. I just wanted to know if you are alright as well. Please, it’s so strange not to speak to you after the past eleven years and… well. After everything. Hope you’re well.”_

_“Darling, I was about to- Oh. I mean, ahem… Crowley, I saw they are performing Shakespeare at that little theatre you were so fond of. One of the funny ones! I know you probably don’t want to see me, but it’s just no fun to go see it without you. I was hoping. I don’t know what I was hoping. I lo- oh… I hope to see you soon.”_ The answering machine kept spitting out Aziraphale’s voice at him, and Crowley had given up trying to block out the sound or turning off the damn thing altogether sometime after the fifth attempt. He could leave and try to sit in a different part of his flat, could try to sleep or drink until he couldn’t see straight, but Aziraphale’s voice cut through any of that, reached him in the furthest corner, and Crowley couldn’t help but drag himself back to sit against the wall and listen. Hands shaking, bottles gathering around him as he only occasionally remembered to miracle them away. 

It was the sweetest torture to listen to Aziraphale’s hesitant voice, bravely pretending like everything was fine or sounding close to tears in turn. Crowley just sat there and felt his hands shake and wished he was strong enough to disconnect the phone. 

_“Please, I’ve missed you dreadfully. I know you don’t… you’re not… but didn’t we have good times too? I just want your company, just for a drink, just for an hour. Nothing needs to happen, you don’t even have to pretend to… Please, Crowley.”_

Trying to sleep was already an ordeal all by itself. Despite it being a great defence mechanism against bad emotions he couldn’t work through, Crowley still struggled to push aside pressing concerns when it came to naps. It had taken him a couple days of tossing and turning to fall asleep after his row with Aziraphale regarding some holy water, and now the distress of their falling out was mingled with exquisite guilt. Crowley couldn’t tell just how much fitful sleep he could get in before the phone would ring and the sound of Aziraphale’s voice tore him right back out of it. Even just the hint of it shook Crowley to awareness, unable to ignore the despair in that beloved voice. 

“ _-there was this customer, oh, you know just the kind, the type I’d even let you spook-_ ”

“ _I only wanted to know how you’re doing, it’s so odd not to know where you are-_ ”

Drinking to drown out the pain barely worked at all. When drunk and already unhappy Crowley was prone to tears and wallowing in despair. His tears were gone, but that didn’t mean that he couldn’t sit on the floor, always close enough to the phone to hear the new messages, to replay the old ones too, because drunk Crowley was also a sucker for pain. 

“ _-... there’s no reason for this call, I just wanted to tell myself you’re out there._ ”

“ _Last time I was so uncertain about your state was when we had that dreadful fight- Oh, I don’t like recalling it at all._ ”

“ _Forgive me, I dialed the wrong number quite out of habit-_ ”

And on and on it went, snippets of Aziraphale’s voice breaking the silence of the flat and breaking what remained of Crowley’s heart to pieces over and over again. It was more than a demon could take, really. 

Ignoring Aziraphale’s calls entirely was unthinkable, but Crowley needed some sort of relief, just a moment of respite to retreat and lick his wounds without the constant reminder of what he did. Rising up in a half trace he stumbled towards the phone, picking up before the answering machine could kick on. 

There was a click in the line, and Crowley let out a shuddering breath, hearing the sharp gasp on the other side. 

“Crowley!” he heard Aziraphale’s cry, full of surprise and hope and- “Oh, dear I didn’t think you were home, I wanted to-”

“Stop calling,” Crowley growled out, voice rough from drinking too much and the quiet whimpers of agitation he’d bitten back ever since this started. He just needed a break, just one little break to sleep or regain his composure. He wasn’t ready to hear Aziraphale’s voice so much, open and vulnerable as the angel felt more ready to pour his heart out over the phone. "The sound of your voice is making me sick."

He didn’t want to hear any kind of response, slamming down the receiver. With a quiet groan Crowley dragged his hands down his face. He ought to sober up perhaps. But first, another attempt to sleep off his misery. 

*

Aziraphale stared at the phone, mouth agape. He couldn’t remember Crowley insisting to be left alone so brusquely. Or ever, really, not unless he really couldn’t be near Aziraphale for work reasons. 

He expected pain, some sort of bittersweet relief at having heard Crowley’s voice and knowing for sure that his demon wasn’t asleep but all he there was…

Rage. 

Aziraphale straightened his spine, pushing his shoulders back with a quiet sneer. He had to take care in putting the phone down, worried that he might crush it in his hands that were shaking with quiet rage, while every inch of his body tensed. 

Clearly, _clearly_ Aziraphale didn’t know Crowley at all. Or Crowley had just decided to drop any aspect of kindness and goodness from his behaviour. Perhaps it always had been just a little rebellion against Hell, his way of setting himself apart from the other demons while he couldn’t do anything to get away. 

Gone was the ocean of sorrow that had been drowning Aziraphale. He couldn’t feel the ache of his heart anymore, just the ice cold fury filling his ribcage. Fine then. No more weeping for someone who did not love him, did not _deserve_ his tears. And why should Aziraphale cry any longer? He was still an angel of the Lord, even without a connection to the Heavenly Host. He didn’t need a demon who did nothing but tear his heart to shreds. He would not permit any more pain to result from misplaced love and false hope. 

He couldn’t just stop loving, that was certain. Not after centuries of it.. No. Aziraphale would cling to that quiet seething rage and protect himself from any further hurt. Let Crowley choke on his newfound freedom, Aziraphale wouldn’t waste the gift of a renewed Earth on wallowing in self pity any longer.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for minor injuries due to an accident

Going back to normal was surprisingly easy. Aziraphale had spent weeks, on some occasions, even months, living without any sign of Crowley in the past century. He had merely gotten used to being in close quarters with the demon from the moment the Antichrist appeared. It was just a matter of returning to old habits now, and Aziraphale found himself surprisingly content. 

He just avoided thinking about Crowley, if he didn’t have to, and furiously pushed aside any wave of hurt by reminding himself of how right he was in his anger. 

By nature Aziraphale wasn’t an angry person. It was rare that something ignited his fury, and even then it came in short bursts, easily overpowered by anxiety or his own self doubts. He never knew whether he was right in judging anyone, or whether it was his place to do something about a bad situation. In this case it was easy enough. Nothing and nobody, safe for perhaps Heaven, had ever betrayed him so cruelly. And in Heaven’s case it was easier to look back and see that there had always been signs. 

Crowley however, had been impeccable, and Aziraphale seethed at the thought of not being able to pinpoint times he might have discovered the lie. He was naive, he knew that, far too trusting and believing in the good of people. But even he couldn’t have been that stupid as to be deceived. The demon just really was a good actor, it seemed. 

Aziraphale went about his days as usual, though he could tell that he was radiating an air of cold anger that had humans approach him less. He was polite and never snapped, but he knew that he also was full of rage just under the surface. At least it became easier to not sell books that way. 

The phonecall from Tadfield was a surprise that caught Aziraphale entirely off guard. He didn’t immediately place the voice on the other end. 

“Miss Device,” he let out, when the witch had introduced herself again, too surprised to know how to feel. “I didn’t expect to hear back from you so soon.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t keep in touch,” Anathema replied, fumbling with something heavy on the other end of the line. “We didn’t get to talk very much that day, but I did call Madame Tracy a few times.” 

“Nothing to apologize for,” Aziraphale assured her. “I haven’t kept up my end either after all.”

“We should meet up, at your bookshop perhaps” the witch said, sounding quite excited about the prospect. “I meant to visit London anyway, so Tracy and I could come by.”

Aziraphale paused, trying to come up with a good reason not to invite them. He knew neither of the women would try to buy his books, and he had a vague memory of promising Anathema to show her some of her collection. They’d only spoken very briefly on the airfield, before dispersing, and the witch had been somewhat upset at him for stealing her book before that was cleared up. While he wasn’t in a mood to see anyone socially, it still would do him good to meet up with some people who knew of what he was and what had happened that day.

“But of course,” he finally said, smiling with a small grimace. “Just let me know when you have the time. I shall keep my bookshop closed that day.”

“Oh, you really don’t have to close your business on our account!”

“I insist.”

They made plans and exchanged a few pleasantries, until the conversation became a little awkward. They didn’t know each other very well yet, and not enough to talk on the phone for a prolonged amount of time. When Anathema had hung up Aziraphale had somehow managed to convince himself that he was looking forward to the meeting, and that company was exactly what he needed to take his mind off of things. 

The following Saturday Tracy and Anathema arrived with some excitement. While Anathema smiled happily but kept her distance, Tracy embraced Aziraphale in greeting like they were old friends. It’d been a while since Aziraphale had been friends with kind older ladies, who were so fond of taking him in, and Tracy had shared his mind for a while after all. It was hard not to be familiar under those circumstances.

The two humans fit nicely into the bookshop, Aziraphale found. Anathema had something about her, as if ancient first editions were in her blood, and she obviously knew how to care for them. Apart from one strange sketch the Book had been as well handled as such an old and well read tome could possibly be. Madame Tracy meanwhile looked too colourful and eccentric to really blend in well, but the burst of colour her coat and hair provided really suited Aziraphale’s personal mess. 

“It really is a wonderful place,” Tracy complimented him, looking around with interest as Aziraphale set down a platter of biscuits and two cups. “Must have taken a lot of time to set everything up.”

He poured them both elderflower cordial and smiled indulgently. 

“It felt like no time at all actually. Though I supposed I must have rearranged everything several times over in the past two hundred years.”

He didn’t miss the twin looks of surprise, as both women remembered that they were indeed dealing with an angel. Anathema picked up her cup to hide the surprise and sipped at her drink. She glanced at the liquid and evidently found it to her liking. Aziraphale preened a little at that, since he had befriended the kind grocer at the farmer’s market who made it and was proud of her creations. 

“Well, I am happy that you like it,” he announced. “It is not often that I invite humans here or… ever, really. Normally I go out to meet humans somewhere else. The only visits I get here are for business.”

“I am quite happy to be among your trusted friends then, Mr Fell,” Tracy said. 

“There aren’t very many humans that know about what I am,” Aziraphale replied with a smile. “I’m just a completely normal human being, as far as everyone else is concerned.”

Anathema raised her eyebrow and hid her smirk behind her cup, but Aziraphale wasn’t offended. They _had_ met under peculiar circumstances after all. 

The witch looked up at the ceiling, towards the piles of books visible on the top floor. 

“It must be amazing, to have seen all of human history,” she mused, eyes wandering over the book covers. “Seeing everything happen first hand. I don’t know how many of your lot there are, but there can’t be that many beings that were present the entire time.”

Tracy nodded along. 

“Of course, it must be fascinating. I would love to hear. You mentioned a few things on the way to Tadfield, of course, but there seem to be so many stories you two witnessed. To think, what a lovely pair you two are, since you and your nice young man have seen it all together. How nice to see. Will he join us later, actually? I didn’t quite get the chance to talk to him in person.”

Something shattered, and two human voices cried out in shock. Aziraphale looked at the wide eyed expressions of the women before him, Tracy’s hands covering her mouth and Anathema’s were gripping the chair tight, her body tense as if she was about to spring up. Then he looked down to see the remains of his nice little carafe on the floor, broken to pieces. 

‘ _Ah, what a mess,_ ’ he thought, just as he noticed blood dripping down on the floor. What pieces of the carafe hadn’t made it to the ground were embedded in his hand, ripping through skin and causing the injuries to bleed quite profusely. It didn’t really hurt, though Aziraphale couldn’t feel anything at all. 

“Oh dear me, I made quite a mess of this,” Aziraphale said with a fake cheer he had so despised in Heaven. “Please excuse me, but I really need to take care of this.”

Anathema was still staring at him with the same shock as before, but Tracy lowered her hands, strangely calm. 

“Are you quite alright, love?” she asked gently, and there was something in her look that made Aziraphale’s rage flare up. 

He merely widened his smile and shook his head. 

“Of course, just a silly accident. But I really do need to take care of this now. Perhaps we should postpone our little lunch? I do hope you won’t be too cross with me for leaving you to London’s sights alone? It’s best if you leave now, though.”

Tracy nodded with too much understanding in her eyes. As if she knew exactly what had happened, what Aziraphale felt, and why. 

“Of course, we won’t be in your way.”

She rose to her feet and took her purse. Anathema looked at her in shock, mouth open as if she was ready to protest. A subtle head shake from Tracy and the younger woman threw Aziraphale one last worried look before following her outside. 

“I hope we can meet soon,” Anathema said, her eyes shifting to Aziraphale’s hand no matter how hard she tried not to. “Perhaps you can show me that set of antique bookbinding tools you mentioned last time we spoke.”

Aziraphale kept up the grimace of his smile until they were both gone and the bell above his door stopped ringing. Then he looked down on the ground and his hand. The blood was running down to his wrist now, rather close to touching his sleeve. With a sigh he snapped away the glass on both the ground and sticking out of his corporation. By now Aziraphale was vaguely aware of pain, but all he could think of was just how… angry he was. 

The mere mention of Crowley, not even his name, just the hint, had set him off so terribly, he’d gone and spooked his friends. And that was just it, wasn’t it? Any being who knew anything about either of them knew that they were a pair. Crowley and Aziraphale, Aziraphale and Crowley, the set of traitors who decided to go against everything their sides stood for, the ones humans around them had grown to see as a package deal. 

He wouldn’t be able to have his clean cut, not now, possibly not ever. At least for now his friends would _know_ that something was wrong, that Crowley wasn’t there. Even if Aziraphale managed to convince Tracy that everything was fine, the others would surely bring it up innocently. Ask where the demon was, or what he was up to. Ask about things in Aziraphale’s life that he’d been connected to. Just bringing up the failed Armageddon would lead to such topics. He couldn’t completely avoid the topic without tipping everyone off on something terrible happening between them.

Aziraphale let out a measured breath and examined the injury on his hand with a frown. There were dozens of little cuts, varying in size and depth. He could heal himself, he supposed, but the quiet anger bubbling in him made it hard to focus on the peace of mind one needed to erase damage to one’s corporation. The pain still hadn’t hit him properly, so instead Aziraphale went to his kitchen to fetch the little first aid kid he’d acquired once on a whim. He’d blended in with human healers before and still remembered how to dress a wound properly. The stark white of the bandage on his hand was impossible to ignore, and Aziraphale scoffed at the new reminder of the biggest disappointment of his life. 

He’d spent millenia trying to convince himself that Heaven was good, actually, and that Crowley was bad, truly. That being correct about the latter only stung more than Aziraphale cared to admit, and each reminder of being so foolish for so long set him on edge all over again. 

*

It was rare that the bookshop agitated Aziraphale mentally at all, but after several attempts to read or settle down and listen to music the angel had to admit to himself that he felt somewhat trapped in the cozy crowded atmosphere around him. He put on his coat and went outside, deciding that a brisk walk would surely clear his mind. 

The mindless wandering and presence of humans who paid him no mind at all was indeed doing wonders, and Aziraphale didn’t pay attention to where he was going at all. Every street was familiar, and his feet found his preferred paths through London quite easily. It was no wonder then, that two creatures of habits formed centuries ago would inevitably run into each other when not taking care to avoid the other.

Aziraphale didn’t notice Crowley at first, a fact of which he was mildly proud. Under normal circumstances, it was a bad idea to not be aware of other ethereal or occult beings nearby, but he knew he had nothing to fear from this particular demon. Crowley looked… well... Frankly, he didn’t look healthy for one. Pale and tired, as if he’d been sick for a while. 

“Hey, angel,” Crowley let out with a lopsided grin, nowhere near as collected as he normally was. The last time Aziraphale had seen him like that he’d tried to get him to abandon Heaven and Earth and run away. He’d been fearing for his life then. 

Aziraphale gave him a cold look and the faintest smile, one he had perfected but rarely used, leaving anyone on the receiving end feeling shaken. Evidently it worked on demons as well, as Crowley’s mouth twisted. 

“I see you are doing well,” Aziraphale said politely, with a quiet look of disdain up and down Crowley’s body. For someone who’d known the demon for as long as he, it was easy to tell that his current dishevelment wasn’t intentional at all. 

Crowley just stared at him, expression unreadable. Then he ran his hand through his hair, messing it up further. 

“Was wondering what you’re up to these days. Kinda boring, isn’t it? Without anyone to thwart or any orders coming in from below… or above in your case.”

He laughed, and it sounded rough, voice scratchy. 

“Spent so much time plotting things with you these past years, kind of hard to get used to having time for myself.”

At this Crowley gave Aziraphale another smile, a tiny thing this time. Something in Aziraphale’s chest curdled, pins and needles rushing through his body and making his hands twitch. So Crowley was already bored without him, was he? 

“It is rather easy. One just has to apply oneself to new endeavours,” Aziraphale replied a tad icily. He was allowed to act waspish; he’d not been the one to crush someone’s heart and dreams in one. 

Crowley looked down at that, seemingly avoiding his gaze, though Aziraphale couldn’t tell with the blasted glasses. He used to be able to know exactly what Crowley was feeling under that mask. Or at least he’d thought so. The shift made Crowley’s focus fall on the angel’s hand , and he took a step forward before Aziraphale had the time to avoid him by stepping back. 

“What happened to you?” Crowley let out with sudden urgency. “Did you get hurt?”

Aziraphale had all but forgotten about the bandage on his hand, and quickly shifted his body so it was out of Crowley’s sight. It had been a moment of vulnerability and flared emotions, embarrassingly so. 

“Not at all,” Aziraphale said. “Other than my wounded pride and realizing just what a bad judge of character I am, I’ve been doing quite well.”

Crowley took another step forward, shoulders tense. 

“You never get hurt, not badly. What _happened_ , who-”

“I don’t see why it matters to you at all,” Aziraphale snapped back, feeling the tightness in his chest acting as a pressure cooker to the pent up anger he would not release. He was above this; Crowley did not deserve his pain nor tears nor wrath. 

At this Crowley bared his teeth, a frightened and agitated wild thing. 

“It matters because you got hurt and I-”

At this he faltered. He was quiet for a moment staring at Aziraphale and then looking away. 

“I don’t want you hurt.”

Something about the way he said it made Aziraphale’s blood boil. 

“You have forfeited any right to knowing what I do, or how I feel, or what happens to me,” he growled out, the underlying anger in his voice so vicious that Crowley’s attention snapped right back to him. “You may have used me for whatever passes as amusement down in Hell, and you might have made clear what you think of me, but do not think I’ll just roll over and take your insults any longer.”

Aziraphale had leaned forward just a little as he spoke, so he took a deep breath through his nose and straightened his posture again. Relaxing his jaw, he threw one last disdainful look at Crowley. 

“You’ve played your games, and perhaps we’re no longer truly an angel and a demon. But you are no better than the dirt I walk on. Good day.”

Without a single look back, Aziraphale turned on his heel and walked off as brusquely as he could without seeming like he was fleeing. He was not, he merely refused to be in Crowley’s presence any longer. His anger might get the better of him, and Aziraphale would not let his emotions bubble over like that. Not for Crowley, not any longer. 

That tears threatened to fall when he was several streets away from Crowley was infuriating, but also progress, he had to admit. It was foolish to think that he could get over millennia of yearning in just a few weeks, but at least Aziraphale managed to keep himself from spilling over. No more tears would be shed for something that had only ever been made up in his head. 

Aziraphale reached his bookshop and allowed himself to relax just a little after firmly closing the door. He took a deep breath to steady himself and turned to look around at all that he owned, truly take it all in. The bookshop was as familiar as the back of his own hand, perhaps more so as he never really looked at his hands with any sort of interest. There were books, obviously, but also statues and pictures and various charming things he’d picked up over the past centuries. 

Not all of it was his, he realized. There was the blanket that he had only purchased for Crowley to sit more comfortably when they drank in the backroom, cream and beige but in a pattern that was tasteful to the demon’s preferences. There was an old set of astronomy tools that Crowley had brought over to show off the newest human inventions, a snuffbox Crowley had picked up in Belgium, matching tumblers he’d gifted Aziraphale along with some fine port that had been drank immediately, ink pots that he had brought along and a quill fashioned from a black demon feather, taken in secret and cherished as a prized possession… 

Why had Aziraphale never realized just how much of Crowley had crept into the very core of his life on Earth? Long before he had even dared admitting to himself that he felt love, as misplaced at that had turned out to be? All of a sudden it felt as if Aziraphale couldn’t look anywhere without seeing at least one item that was irrevocably tied to Crowley. 

Was it really any wonder that he couldn’t move on from the pain? 

Aziraphale had very little experience in human love affairs or marriages breaking apart, but he did remember the etiquette of returning any and all gifts in the event of a broken engagement. And that was what it had been, hadn’t it? The expectation of spending the rest of their lives together as one, shattered and his lover revealed to be quite different from what he’d come to rely on.

With a deep sigh Aziraphale squared his shoulders. 

“Right then, old boy,” he said to himself. “As clean a break as possible then.”

He miracled a large cardboard box and set to work.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> some violence and blood in the chapter, not too graphic but people do get hurt

Crowley was more than due for another century's worth of sleep. Just to stop worrying about everything and questioning whether he’d done enough to keep Aziraphale safe. He felt utterly broken up by now, the jagged pieces of what remained of his heart rubbing together in all the wrong spots, putting tension on each other and being close to snapping completely. 

He had known that things had been too good to be true, that the best angel of the whole lot even gracing him with a smile was more than he deserved after being kicked out by a supposedly all-loving God. And then he’d gone and done the right thing, the thing he had to, was forced to do, just to go and hurt the one being he had never hurt purposefully, never even truly lied to. 

Aziraphale thought him worthless now, saw him as the lowly creature he was meant to be. In his eyes, Crowley was precisely what Hell had always wanted him to be, and here he was, deserving every blessed bit of it. 

Whatever his reasons, whatever the intentions, Crowley still had gone and tread all over the heart of the angel he loved, had gone ahead and made him feel used and rejected in every way. It didn’t matter why he’d done it; Crowley really did deserve all the shame and pain that had been thrown back at him by those actions. 

At least the viciousness of Aziraphale’s words were reassuring. Somewhat. Aziraphale never got that way, not in Crowley’s presence at least. But being angry was good. Realizing that he didn’t deserve to be treated like that meant that Aziraphale wouldn’t try to mend things anymore, would go on with his life. As much as it hurt, it did mean that they were safe. Aziraphale would go on being unharmed, Crowley could go on being in pain but knowing that at least he hadn’t permitted his angel to go through eternity of torture. It was unlikely that Aziraphale would go crawling back to Heaven either. He’d be alright. Loneliness was nothing compared to whatever would have awaited him otherwise. Awaited them both.

Everything was dark and glum around him, and Crowley slumped forward in his chair, leaning his arms on the desk and hiding his face. He was too tired for any of this. Perhaps, if he tried hard enough, he might be able to force a dreamless sleep for a while. He didn’t deserve to be completely spared the feelings bubbling in his chest, but a small reprieve was all he wanted. He had eternity of this to look forward to after all. 

He looked at the ground through the gap between his arm and the desk, staring mindlessly at nothing. The way the light was falling into the room meant the door, he was sure he’d closed, was open. And through his own haze of misery he felt the presence of an angel.

Aziraphale… 

“Why are you here,” Crowley snapped, panic rising in his chest as he scrambled up and out of his chair. If Aziraphale was right in the middle of his flat then any demon or angel who happened to look at right this moment would get the wrong ideas. “You have to leave!”

“I apologize for the rude intrusion into your space,” Aziraphale said, not sounding sorry at all. “And I shall leave the moment I am done. Don’t worry, I won’t come back again, this is the last time we will meet on purpose.”

Crowley felt his entire body shake as his eyes flicked down to the box in Aziraphale’s hands. He wished for his glasses back, anything to shield him but now was not the time.

“No, I mean it, you can’t be here, you-”

“I have gathered each item around the bookshop I could find that belongs to you,” Aziraphale barreled on as if Crowley hadn’t spoken at all. He deposited the box on the desk with a heavier thud than such a small thing would warrant. “All the little things you’ve given me in your attempts at seduction over the years. I have no need for them, and perhaps you might have use for these still.”

“Aziraphale,” Crowley hissed. He could feel a prickle of ozone in the air and he couldn’t tell if it was his own fear or the taste of approaching danger. 

“ _Leave_! You can’t be here, you have to go, please just-”

Not moving an inch, Aziraphale turned his nose up. He was stubborn, of course he was, if Crowley felt any less frazzled and if this was any less urgent he’d have gotten rid of Aziraphale some other way, a way in which the angel wouldn’t feel the need to dig his heels in. Of course trying to kick him out would make things worse. 

“Since I found you asleep at your desk, I highly doubt there was anything you might feel the need to hide from me,” Aziraphale replied. “But don’t worry, I shall take my leave very soon.”

Crowley opened his mouth to try and urge him on but he could taste the shift in the air telling him that it was too late. 

Thunder cracked and Crowley tried to lunge for Aziraphale, shield him with his body or do anything at all in his last attempt to save him but it was no use. Two angels popped out of thin air, flanking Aziraphale and punched him in the stomach, making Aziraphale double over with a surprised cry as they both grabbed his arms roughly. More appeared, angels and demons alike and Crowley felt the punches throwing him down, felt the fist in his face and hands slamming him against this desk and then forcing him to his knees. Pain blossomed across his cheeks, and he realized that the punch had been accompanied by rings on the angel’s hands. He didn’t know who did it, his vision tunneling and Aziraphale being his sole focus. 

“No,” he howled as claws dug into his arms and the scent of his own corporation’s blood filled the air. But it was too late, he’d done everything they’d asked, he’d tried, he’d _tried_. “We had a deal!”

Gabriel appeared then, well away from either group holding down Aziraphale and Crowley, with that same mild smile he didn’t seem to be able to make any more sincere. 

“And you didn’t fulfil your part. So I don’t see why we should keep up our part of the bargain.”

Aziraphale stared at Gabriel with wide eyes, and then looked to Crowley. He looked too startled for Crowley to try and read his expression in the state he was in himself, but he desperately hoped that at least his angel didn’t think this was a set up of sorts. 

“I tried, I did everything you assssked me to,” Crowley hissed. “I told you it would take time, I told you he’ssss sssstuborn, don’t-”

Gabriel shook his head and let out a theatrical sigh. 

“That’s what you told your friend over here a while ago,” he said, gesturing to Hastur who was standing to the side, evidently quite annoyed at the proceedings and only there to oversee the demons currently involved in everything. There were half a dozen of them, to the half of dozen angels Gabriel had brought. 

“I don’t think you were trying hard enough,” Gabriel went on. “But let me assure you, _we_ will try enough for the both of us.”

Crowley let out a desperate scream, trying to pull and thrash out of the hold. It didn’t help at all, the claws on him just sank deeper into his skin and he felt several hard smacks until a particular hard hit with a crowbar across his chest sent him sagging in the brutal hold of the ones trapping him. He recognized some of the demons from the 5th circle he’d used to avoid, and Sandalphon’s cruel smile that rivaled any of the Fallen. 

Aziraphale was horrified now, completely frozen in shock as he watched Crowley beg and fight to no avail. Hastur looked somewhat amused by the display and Gabriel just kept on smiling patiently. 

“I don’t actually know if demons can feel guilt or sympathy,” Gabriel said after a while. “But if you thought you could soften the blow, that was quite useless. You may rest assured, every ounce of hurt you didn’t inflict down here will be paid back a hundredfold for the rest of eternity.”

Crowley sagged, tears streaming down his cheeks and over the split skin on his lip. He didn’t even care if the demons around him saw him in such a weak state. They would leave him soon enough, but he had _failed_ , he had failed to protect the only being he cared for. 

“Please,” he whispered, but Heaven had never been merciful. 

“Pardon me,” Aziraphale said, unnervingly polite in the face of those who’d tried more than once to kill them. “But might I at least find out what exactly is going on?”

Gabriel looked back at him with a furrowed brow, as if he’d entirely forgotten about Aziraphale. As much as he was about to cause an eternity of torture, he also didn’t seem to care much. It was cold, clinical even: Heaven’s punishment just as Heaven’s love. 

“Ah, you do deserve to know this much,” he conceded. “Since it does affect you quite a bit more than your demon guard dog here.”

With a sweeping gesture at the pathetic picture Crowley made at the moment Gabriel assumed his terrible presentation stance. 

“It was quite simple. Heaven and Hell couldn’t permit you two to remain allied, what with the strange powers you developed. And we can’t destroy you, but it is clear that your corporations can be hurt and you can still feel pain.”

A nod at the bloodied, roughed up state Crowley was in. 

“A corporation that can be healed and replaced and a being that’s immortal. Humans have been good at inventing torture, and we’re quite happy to adminsiter it for all of eternity. A fitting punishment for a traitor of your magnitude, don’t you think?”

Gabriel paused there, as if expecting input, but Aziraphale just stared at him. 

“So we offered that demon an alternative. Hurt you enough that you’d be isolated on this horrid little planet for the rest of its existence or until you came crawling back to us, and we wouldn’t hurt you physically. Either way, a punishment to last eternity. Seems like he’s not good enough though, given that here you are, still fraternizing.”

At this Gabriel made an exaggeratedly disgusted face. 

“And here I thought it’d be easier to make you realize what a mistake you’ve made, since you two were…” he waved his hand. “Having gross human interactions. I was led to believe that it’s far more painful to be rejected after that.”

Folding his hands with a near apologetic look, Gabriel shrugged. 

“Since the demon didn’t succeed in driving you away, we are left with no choice but to go on with our first plan.”

At this, Aziraphale finally looked at Crowley, his face completely blank. 

“I’m so sorry, angel,” Crowley sobbed out, meeting those beloved pale eyes for what might very well be the last time. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t protect you, I wanted to but-”

A demon backhanded him hard, breaking the eye contact and throwing Crowley back as far as he could go in his current position. 

Aziraphale was still staring at him, then he closed his eyes, breathing in deep through his nose. 

“Is this the reason why I have gotten my heart broken then? Lies? Because you couldn’t leave us alone?”

A scoff from Gabriel, lips twitching in disgust. 

“You’ve got no one but yourself to blame. An angel so weak as to fall for a demon’s temptations enough to have a heart to break? Aziraphale, honestly, it was only a matter of time anyway. Demons are incapable of love. You know that.”

Crowley watched Aziraphale’s unnatural stillness, vision blurring from tears and the hits he’d already sustained. Watched as his angel took a deep breath, then two. 

“That you would still think me weak,” Aziraphale said after a moment, eyes still closed. “I knew Heaven never thought much of me, but that you would just disregard me like this.”

“Other than your freakish nature you never gave us reasons to think otherwise,” Gabriel replied, then raised his hand to wave at the angels in the room. “Come on then, we’ve wasted enough time here.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” Aziraphale said, voice even and calm. 

“You’ve got no choice in the matter,” Gabriel said with a shrug. 

“I rather think I do.”

What happened then was too quick for Crowley to keep up. With a crack of displaced air, Aziraphale opened his eyes and there was fire, pale and translucent and not truly there, but it was pouring from his eyes, his mouth, and before either of the angels flanking him could react Aziraphale threw them off as if they weighed nothing at all. 

Crowley felt a shift as everyone in the room got ready to attack and restrain Aziraphale again, but it was too late. With a swift punch and a kick, Aziraphale threw the angels nearest to him down, and then reached for the closest demon. It was the one with the crowbar, and his valiant attempts to strike Aziraphale down were dodged with frightening ease. The demon howled in agony as Aziraphale grabbed his arm, his corporation shattering as the weapon was wrenched from his hands, quickly engulfed in the same angry flames of Aziraphale’s rage. 

It was all so fast. Crowley crumbled to the floor as the ones holding him jumped forward to try and stop the angel, and he couldn’t take his eyes off the display. Azirapale wore a cold, frightening mask of impassive calmness, his movements were brutal and efficient. He dodged any punch, any kick, wrenching makeshift weapons away and cracking down his crowbar hard enough to break bones and wrenching limbs from bodies and doing damage that no corporation should have the strength to deal out. 

Nobody in the room was a fighter but Aziraphale, Crowley realized. They made up for it by brute strength and outnumbering their victims, but they didn’t stand a chance against _that_. Sandalphon came closest to actually doing any harm, but he was a brute enforcer, used to intimidation and dealing with humans who truly stood no chance against him. His nasty sneer turned to naked fear when Aziraphale caught his brutal swing in his hand, as if it was no effort at all, and he didn’t even have time to scream before he was torn apart. 

Hastur realized the situation soon enough and made for the door, but he didn’t get very far at all as Aziraphale leapt at him, knocking him down. 

“I believe you’re not welcome on Earth,” he said calmly, as if he didn’t have a demon screaming in terror under him. He smote him quickly and efficiently, leaving nothing behind as he sent the Duke right back to Hell. 

The demons were almost completely destroyed as they were dealt with, but unable to smite the angels Aziraphale merely did irreparable damage to his former colleagues’ corporations, forcing them into Heaven but leaving their shells behind in a horrifying display. 

In the end, only the Archangel was left, fittingly, lying on his back, hair a mess and his limbs lying uselessly at odd angles as Aziraphale pressed his foot onto his chest to keep him in place, the crowbar inches from Gabriel’s nose. He’d kept him for last, incapacitating him to deal with later. 

“What- what,” Gabriel choked out, clearly too shocked to register any pain his corporation might be in. 

“I have never been weak,” Aziraphale stated calmly. “I’ve been a warrior and guardian, and you merely forgot as I chose not to be cruel or violent. I don’t want to be like this, but if I ever see any of you ever approach either of us, I will make short work of you.”

“Are you threatening me?” Gabriel grit out, blood splattering over his pristine suit jacket. 

“Merely stating a fact,” Aziraphale said impassively. “Now. _Leave_. This Planet.”

Gabriel stared up in defiance just one moment longer, before fear finally got the better of him. With a snap all traces of the angels remaining were gone, leaving Aziraphale and Crowley all alone once more. 

It was eerily quiet all of a sudden, only the sounds of the city poured into the room, muffled as they were. The cloying, sickly sweet scents of rot and ozone were faint now, burned away by the cold rage Aziraphale had unleashed. He stood calmly in the middle of the room, staring down at the spot Gabriel had occupied, barely even dishevelled at all. 

Crowley watched as Aziraphale flexed his hand and then tossed the crowbar aside, and all at once what remained of Crowley’s strength left him. Exhaustion and pain and grief had him sink down to the floor, shaky arms just barely keeping him from connecting with the hard stone face first. Immediately warm hands were on him and Aziraphale was guiding him to lean against the desk, a gentleness in his touch that belied the violence he’d just inflicted. 

“Oh dear, they really did a number on you,” Aziraphale said, his voice still as casual as before though the slightest worried frown marred his features. 

He summoned a handkerchief out of thin air and started wiping at the blood on Crowley’s lips, his free hand cradling the demon’s cheek. It was all too much too fast. After weeks and weeks of not being able to breathe or sleep right, unable to think of anything but the pain on Aziraphale’s features. It was more than Crowley could bear.

“Angel, I’m so sorry,” he whimpered out, a hand coming up to clutch at Aziraphale’s, shaking fingers curling against crisp white bandages. “I didn’t want… I didn’t ever want to cause you pain, I’m so sorry.”

Aziraphale looked at him, quiet and sad. 

“They blackmailed you, is that right?”

Crowley nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks. His entire body was shaking with the adrenaline crash, his composure too broken to try and remind it that it did not need to do so. 

“Said to break your heart and isolate you, that it’d be our punishment, and that they didn’t want us together- I’m so sorry, they threatened to torture you for all eternity if I didn’t make you go away.”

Aziraphale lowered the hand still holding the handkerchief and Crowley suspected he’d pull away entirely were it not for his hold on him. He had to get it out, had to at least explain the most basic. 

“They got to me on that first night when I went to go check on my flat. I didn’t even get here, they ambushed me downstairs in- I should never have left your side, I didn’t want to. I never lied to you before, not about anything important, I promise angel. And I don’t know why I didn’t tell you that night, but I was lying. I love you. I’ve loved you for sssso long, for longer than I remember, sssssince the very sssstart. I love you, and I’m sssso ssssorry I ever made you believe I didn’t, because you’re the most important being to me, and now I’ve gone and broke that for you. I should have found a way to let you know, I should have found a loophole.”

Crowley choked up, his tongue lashing against his teeth nervously as he tried hard to keep at least the smallest speck of composure. 

Aziraphale blinked, and finally pulled away completely. He turned, sitting down on the floor with his back to the desk, next to Crowley. His eyes were fixed on the wall across from them and Crowley looked up at his angel desperately, knowing that his words were nothing in the grand scheme of things. He’d seen how hurt Aziraphale had been, and he didn’t think a weepy apology would do much to soothe something like this. Hurt festered and could shatter in seconds, while healing could take decades, if not centuries for immortal beings like them. 

They sat in silence as Crowley tried to get a grip on his tears. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt at ease for a full 24 hours. The last night he’d gotten to spend with Aziraphale hadn’t even been that, given that he’d returned from Heaven in the afternoon and got ambushed the very next morning. 

“So everything I accepted as true wasn’t really,” Aziraphale said after a while. “But then again _that_ was a lie too.”

He let out a strange sound, somewhere between a laugh and an angry growl. 

Crowley felt as if he would slide down to the floor despite the desk’s support behind his back, his arms had started shaking so bad. At once hands were on him, holding him with a gentleness that made fresh tears spill over. 

“I don’t desssserve thissss,” he protested weakly as Aziraphale carefully helped him stand up, supporting his entire weight with no complaint. “‘M a nasssty little demon after all. Not after everything I did.”

“Don’t be silly, serpent,” Aziraphale replied with a smile that only looked moderately forced. “Come along now, you’re quite hurt, aren’t you? And you look as if you haven’t rested since before the Apocalypse.”

“Haven’t,” Crowley confirmed, letting the angel lead him out of the room. He wasn’t really looking where they were going until they passed the glassdoors to his bedroom. 

It felt strange to have Aziraphale’s hands on him, but Crowley didn’t protest when he was pushed to sit down on the edge of his bed, nor when Aziraphale started removing his jacket and shirt carefully. 

“They really did a number on you,” Aziraphale tutted, once Crowley was sitting down in only his boxers. There were cuts on his skin, and a trickle of dried blood where he’d been hit particularly hard, as well as angry red marks that would form nasty bruises soon enough. 

Aziraphale stepped close and started running his hands over the damaged skin. The unpleasant trickle of divinity right against him was drowned out by the sensation of Aziraphale’s hands, soft palms cradling Crowley’s face as the damage on his lip and jaw was sealed, then running down his neck and over his clavicles and to his arms, leaving the twin sensations of pleasure and pain in their wake. Crowley whimpered under the ministrations, trying his hardest not to lean into the touch. It was a kindness he didn’t deserve, nor one Aziraphale was in any state to give for any other reason than pity. Yet Crowley couldn’t help but take it all in greedily. If this was to be the last time Aziraphale touched him like this… 

The healing left Crowley with itchy limbs and faint marks of weeks old injuries. It was difficult to do better than this, the angelic miracles being quite unpleasant, which Crowley sadly knew from experience. Aziraphale had healed him just enough to keep the healing from being more unpleasant than the actual ache of the bruises. Perhaps, if he was still feeling charitable towards Crowley, he might heal him again in a day or two, removing the final traces. 

“You should rest,” Aziraphale said, and he was right, as Crowley could barely keep his eyelids from drooping. His hands were mercifully still on Crowley’s skin, now cupping the back of his head and holding on to his shoulder. 

“Can’t. What if they come back,” Crowley whimpered. 

He could feel his angel pushing him down to lie against the pillows and then sheets were pulled over his body gently. It would be so easy just to fall asleep like this, easier than anything, but-

“Stay. I can’t sleep with the nightmares.”

It was a foolish request, not one he deserved to see fulfilled, or even deserve to ask in the first place. Not after what he’d done to Aziraphale. But Crowley could practically hear the sudden pause in Aziraphale’s motion. There was some hesitation and then he heard the whisper of fabric and a chair being pulled out from somewhere. 

He was half unconscious when he felt the mattress dip and moments later strong arms were pulling him up to rest against a soft angelic chest. 

“Your sleep will be restful and free of bad dreams,” Aziraphale whispered into his hair, angelic suggestion lacing his voice. 

Crowley’s breath hitched and he was sure he would be crying again, soaking Aziraphale’s vest right through. But he was too exhausted and sleep took him with what he thought was a kiss to his forehead. 

*

Aziraphale sat absolutely still, back against the headboard of Crowley’s too large bed. A guardian at his core he could maintain this position until the actual end of the world if he had to. He wasn’t sure what had driven him to shedding his clothes until he was only in his vest and underpants, or to slide into bed with the demon. He certainly hadn’t expected this to happen ever again, neither with Crowley nor with anyone else for that matter. 

Yet here he was, cradling the sleeping demon in his arms, soft red hair tickling his chin and one of his hands stroking through it soothingly. Crowley twitched in his sleep, looking tense and exhausted even as he rested. He usually was completely out of it, and even with Aziraphale’s gentle blessing of a peaceful sleep he didn’t seem all that relaxed now. 

It was strange to think that Crowley had been hurting as much as Aziraphale, if not more so, in these past weeks. Heaven didn’t torture, Aziraphale knew this. But they also didn’t order angels to step into Hellfire or ignore human pain and tragedies. They didn’t condone anyone getting to break free from their rules, so an angel breaking free of their ranks entirely… 

Aziraphale knew that Crowley had said the truth when pleading forgiveness, knew that Gabriel had understated whatever it was they had planned for him. To think that Crowley had knowingly inflicted that pain on himself and Aziraphale in turn, just to spare him an eternity of whatever it was. Yet Aziraphale had somehow moved on. Had felt hope and rage and even acceptance, towards the end, while Crowley had spent these weeks with nothing but his own secret. Couldn’t even express what he felt, lest Aziraphale catch on to the deceit. 

The strangest thing was trying to cope with the outpouring of love he’d felt once the angels and demons had appeared. As if a veil had been dropped, revealing what had always been there but was momentarily blocked. Aziraphale hadn’t even known that one could shield their own emotions so completely, to avoid detection, and yet Crowley had done it to make his lie all the more believable. It was there now, had poured from Crowley’s lips and his eyes, bittersweet love shot through with grief in ways Aziraphale had never felt from his demon before. It had been sad at times, yes, but always hopeful, always patient. Crowley had gone and dashed his own millennia worth of hopes just to keep him safe. 

They’d been so happy that night after the Ritz. Finally free to love and be loved, nothing keeping them from touching and holding. That Crowley had been ambushed and had it all taken away less than an hour after their last kiss was too much to bear… 

Aziraphale looked down at Crowley, saw the faint cut on his slightly parted lips. He’d looked so desperate hanging between the two angels holding him in a death grip, evidently more concerned about Crowley breaking free than Aziraphale. How he had begged and pleaded and how the demons had looked faintly amused by his desperations, and Gabriel’s easy smile as he broke their deal. Because Crowley hadn’t been good enough at breaking Aziraphale’s heart and making him stay away. Because despite it all Crowley hadn’t done the best he could have, or perhaps Aziraphale had been too stubborn. 

It was strange, after the bitterness and disappointment with Heaven, to suddenly feel all the pain and rage of the last week directed squarely at them. Aziraphale had barely felt anything as he tore through the angels and smote the demons threatening what was his. There was no room to let emotions get the better of you when fighting, not against so many opponents at once. Oh, he really didn’t like doing what he was made for, but he _could_. It stung to know that nobody in Heaven thought highly enough of him to even remember that much, all of them blinded by his soft appearance and the nervous stuttering he fell back to when speaking to superiors. Never a good enough angel in their eyes. 

Aziraphale held Crowley tighter then, feeling his heart break all over again. 

What should have been a joyful period of discovering each other and learning how to be open with their love had been taken away, tainted by Heaven. Wasn’t love something to be cherished regardless of who it was from? That they had thought to use it against them, hurt them so deeply was just another nail in the coffin of Aziraphale’s old beliefs. 

How strange was it, that despite the lies and deceit, it was still a demon’s love that remained true through it all. And the heartbreak had been inflicted in the name of love. 

Kissing the crown of Crowley’s head, Aziraphale's heart clenched. He would have healed, eventually, he had hoped for it. But Crowley had essentially condemned himself to an eternity of pain coming from knowing the truth of the situation. Aziraphale hardly thought that he deserved such a selfless love at all. And yet he held it in his arms, a gift given freely despite the pain it had caused over centuries. 

It was nearly overwhelming to feel his own love flare up in response to the familiar sensation. Warmth spread from his chest and to his toes and fingertips, chasing away the quiet rage bubbling just underneath the surface. Aziraphale held Crowley to his chest, wishing for nothing more than to protect their little spot of paradise. 

*

Crowley woke to the feeling of soft fingers caressing his bare shoulder and a warm cushiony chest under his cheek. He blinked his eyes open to find morning light streaming in through the window. 

“You’re awake! Good, you really looked like you needed the rest, but I was worried you’d decide to nap for more than a full day.”

With a small shift Crowley looked up to see Aziraphale smile down at him with a soft expression, immediately dashing the possibility that this was a dream. He never did get nice nightmares after all. 

“Angel,” he croaked out, feeling close to tears already. “I’m so sorry.”

“None of that,” Aziraphale shushed him immediately, cradling Crowley’s face in his hands with a serious look. “You did nothing that wasn’t your hand being forced.”

“I broke your heart,” Crowley pushed on, hand coming up to wrap around Aziraphale’s. “I made you believe that I didn’t love you.”

“And I know that you were made to lie to protect me from greater harm,” Aziraphale sighed, anger flashing across his features briefly before he brushed the hair from Crowley’s forehead. “You did what you were forced to in order to protect me. How could I hold that against you, my darling?”

“I love you,” Crowley blurted out then. “I don’t know why I didn’t tell you that night, but I do, I _do_.”

Aziraphale’s eyes shone with unshed tears as he smiled, relieved and elated at the words. 

“I know. It took you quite a lot of effort to make me doubt that.”

Crowley felt something inside him break, relief and sorrow warring for dominance in his chest. As if sensing the conflicting emotions in him, Aziraphale made a soothing little sound and leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Crowley’s cheek. 

“No, don’t blame yourself over this. Heaven and Hell hurt us, over and over by just enforcing their rules and then trying to kill us. This is just another horrid little scheme to force us into line. You’ve done nothing wrong, love, we were both just hurt and we’ve prevailed. None of it was your own fault.”

“I should have thought of something else,” Crowley denied, but he felt himself relaxing under Aziraphale’s ministrations. “I’ve missed this.”

They looked at one another for a moment, Aziraphale’s lips parting in a soft exhale. Hesitantly, Crowley raised his hands to run them through the pale angelic curls, and after one last nervous look at Aziraphale’s face he leaned in for a kiss. He could feel the delighted gasp against his lips, could taste the sweetness he’d thought he’d never get to experience again. 

Their kiss was chaste, slow, a ‘hello, darling, I’ve missed you’. When they parted Aziraphale was smiling brightly, clearly relieved. 

“I love you, my darling,” he whispered against Crowley’s skin. “And I feel like we deserve our rest once and for all, don’t you think? A holiday after Armageddon, just a little delayed.”

A laugh burst from Crowley’s chest, free and happy for the first time in ages. 

“Of course we deserve it.”

They rearranged themselves a little then, with Aziraphale lying down fully and Crowley shifting until they could hold each other once more. 

“I can’t believe you tore through those bastards just like that,” Crowley joked. “I guess I should be grateful we never did end up fighting on opposite sides.”

Aziraphale turned his nose up a little. 

“It’s what they deserved after hurting you in front of my eyes.”

Crowley sighed and curled against Aziraphale’s chest. 

“I’m supposed to be the one to protect you. Feels a bit weird, knowing that you never need it, truly.”

“I do need it,” Aziraphale said quietly. “I don’t like being the strong cold warrior. I like it when you take care of me.”

“And I will, I’ll never let you down again,” Crowley promised, clinging to Aziraphale’s shirt. 

“You never truly could,” Aziraphale whispered, kissing his hair. 

They dozed, after that, simply basking in each other’s presence and Crowley still feeling exhausted from the events of the last day and the weeks before. He hadn’t ever thought he’d get to feel safe like this again, to feel loved, to feel like he might actually deserve it once more. 

Crowley awoke sometime around mid afternoon, still curled up in the blanket cocoon they’d made of his sheets, though no longer with Aziraphale by his side. 

For one frantic second he couldn’t find him anywhere, before he spotted Aziraphale sit at the edge of the bed, cradling a tea cup and nibbling at a biscuit he must have found somewhere in the depth of Crowley’s kitchen. The sight immediately had Crowley relax back against the pillows, though his brief moment of panic hadn’t gone unnoticed. 

“Is everything alright?” Aziraphale asked, setting down his tea on the nightstand. 

Crowley looked up at him, trying to process the paranoia of what had happened the last time he’d been alone after sleeping wrapped around his angel. What had happened the last time he’d let go of him for a moment.

“Stay?” he asked instead, reaching out his hand halfway across the mattress. 

Something in Aziraphale’s eyes softened, as if he understood exactly what was going through Crowley’s head. He turned around and crawled back towards his demon, slipping under the blankets and Crowley’s arm, snuggling into the embrace. 

“Of course,” he promised, kissing Crowley softly. “Forever, this time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much to everyone who read this fic and commented and supported me. This was a fun self indulgent thing to write, and I'm glad people enjoyed it.


End file.
